I stop to think of what I could be,
What these hands are capable of.
The great works that masters have created,
Did they hesitate in fear and wonder?
Before opening their hands to pick up their tools,
Were their minds prepared for what may come?
At the time of their conception in stone, paint, text,
Did any see the genius behind what they could view?
Did they create in the hopes of gaining fame,
Or create because that is what their hands demanded?
Did they care what others thought of their work?
Would the attention have changed their style?
Does art need to be famous in order to be art?
Does art need to be viewed in order to be art?
The eyes must see what the hands have formed,
Or else the heart aches in the chest,
As the mind starves for guidance,
With tools in hand.