I taught myself to paint
remember, life
in vain, recreate, youth.
By now it's past too,
our quiet pool slowly poisoned by the sand that blows in.
Slowly,
it settles to the bottom, then shifts in the depths.
Slowly,
the eternal glacier moves forward an inch each year
in contempt of the blazing sun
and the sweat that rolls down the faces
of the faithful that pull it along the ground.
Matthew Christopher
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-taught-myself-to-paint/
