An artist, with brush in hand
Echoes the nearby land
Unto his canvas
A lonely cloud, wanders upon the sky
To be captured in his work
The brine, shines brightly
The sand, white as snow and
the gulls tweet harmoniously

And yet the artist sees its true nature
He isn't creating it but copying it
He is a disciple of a great artist
One with such great talent.
You see, there exists a genius
For a greater artist must of
created the shining brine
created the white sand
created the gulls and their chorus
and he must of created the lonely cloud

And yet the artist ponders
Is this his masterpiece?
Or does there exist a more
stunning canvas?
Maybe the artist's greatest creation
Was the people who could capture and preserve his masterpieces his true masterpiece?
Or was that artist another masterpiece?