strokes of wild he(art)

what would I paint
this empty canvas with,
without colours
gone wild,
vibrant colours
distilled
from the marrow
of this sacred form?

what would I do
without this heart,
who dips into pools
of light and dark
no one wants to step into,
and then dances
without a care,
wherever, however she wills?

what would I do
without her solid strokes
flushed with fire,
leaping with a flourish
over well-worn valleys
of moderation,
silencing critics
with her candid moves?

what would I do
without her colours
gone wild?
for that's how this canvas
unfolds and comes alive,
strokes of wild he(art)
splashed across
the emptiness.