One

How, from great difference, can one be meld.
If our ways, our thoughts, our patterns be telled,

Continents merge and mountains collide,
With greater calm and soothing provide;

Treaties are formed and nations unite,
By stoke of pen, more certain be right.

But artists know of contrast's fair due,
From red and white to shade and hue.

Colors stark and strong and proud,
By brush unto submission bowed.

What, of masters' works displayed,
Were colors only grey and gray?

But we of disparate pigments made,
By master's stroke, a concerted shade.

Upon the master's canvas lays
The glint of an eye, our stroke portrays.