Now

They found on that black wall a picture hung
      as if it swam in empty space itself,

And saw a mask grotesque and dark, ensnared
      in webs of rotting filth and foul decay.

He looked away and to his friend he spoke,
      "It says destruction comes, torment and pain,

All life shall suffer bitter ends," to which
      his kind companion said in gentle tones,

"Do you not see the plucky weeds below,
      whose green is life resisting fate's design?"

"Of course," he said, "we could invert your view,
      and say the last of life is soon consumed." 

"Perhaps," she pleads, "we are not meant to choose,
      but thrash about all possibilities."

A picture says a thousand words it's said
      but here they found just two, despair and hope,

All while the picture sends the audience
      ten-thousand years of dark philosophy,

The pair of kids who dwell in black and white,
      now swim in Chaos' lively sea, and laugh

With joy at never knowing who they are,
      but always loving blesséd argument.



      Then

The artist was dispirited and frowned,
      his muse was gone, the painting uninspired,

And so, quite tired, he put it to one side, 
      began the tedious task of cleaning up.

While shaking out a brush of viridian hue,
      it slipped away and clouds of droplets flew
      
Onto the half-done canvas lain to rest,
      when she came in, kimono'd and concerned,

His muse, amanuensis, and kind friend,
      "I heard you yelp and curse, and... Oh, what's this?"

She held the reject in the light and smiled,
      "This really is provocative, so sad

And yet quite angry, and the green's just right!"
      He slipped his arm around her waist and bent

His face to hers, they danced a silent turn
      or two about the messy atelier.

He said, "You once again have saved my heart!"
      She dropped her silken robe, and fell into his bed,

And when a week had passed, the paint had dried, 
      the painting hung upon the gallery wall,

With bread and cheese and wine, beside the sea,
      they laughed at the vanity of Art and all.

                The image is from Google Maps, showing a 3 acre 
                plot north of Davis, California, coordinates
                38.57778, -121.78709, from a satellite photo
                made January 8 2024. It was probably a burn pit 
                for trees culled from a surrounding grove. It and 
                the adjacent land have since been converted to a 
                field of hard red wheat, with no visible trace 
                left of its previous identity.