From the womb of matter an ancient breath rises:
forms barely hinted at, like forgotten words,
dissolve into the silence of light and shadow.

“I create as I speak” — so the canvas whispers,
as time settles in layers within its marks,
and chaos recomposes itself into a secret order.

On this threshold, suspended between the visible and the invisible,
the word becomes gesture,
the gesture becomes creation,
and creation returns to mystery.