Friday, 13 September 2013

The Last Great Painting

As the floods died away and returned to their mother streams
Leaving the skyscrapers dressed in coats of pure green
High on the highest building was a room
Never touched by the storms and in there lay the most
Beautiful painting in the universe
For a time the spiders crawled across it, appreciating its
Bumps of oils,
Some nights a rat would scuttle across the floor and nibble at
The edge of the wooden frame: such wonderful tastes.
But the apes, who had stared at the heavens and had come down
From the trees, leaving painted finger prints in caves along
The way and who had then evolved into upright walkers
Built cities that scraped the skies
That kissed the clouds
Never knowing if their art and beauty came from the gods
Or from the blood
The apes had decorated their palaces with paintings
But the floods finally fell and the apes were long since taken
No life was left, no life at all
To look upon the last great painting
Like the falling tree in the empty forest
No sound, no beauty.

bobby stevenson 2013

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