To an untrained eye,
Every fetus seems crippled.
But to one who knows the process,
The contortions foretell of beauties to come.
So it is with fledgling creators,
Inevitable temporary cripples,
To the masses of untrained eyes.
Unsure of whether their difference
Be madness or genius…
And at this early stage,
I’d say they’re synonymous…
Though not always wanting to be,
But having to be,
Since they be of the few,
To whom the first traces of new wonders,
Whisper their secret charms,
Thus seducing fledgling masters,
Into suckling them into beauty,
Which all can then readily see.
‘Does it have a name yet?’
‘And do you know if it’s a … or a …?’
‘No. No. No. Let’s just wait and see.’