I welcome the great white expanse that lay before me. The waiting raw canvas is of no consequence. I am never for a loss of words while facing the silent blank page. At once I take off running, gaining speed and gathering force to hurl my silver javelin. Like the ancient olympian who with one mighty thrust and a flick of the wrist launched an art seeking missile. Sharp green eyes hold the planets and calculate the angle of ascent. This vessel pen will draw water from animal shaped clouds then darken their outlines and tint them with blue wash. Within it's flying chamber pulses a vein full of india ink. Further, my airborne quill climbs to new heights. A blue ring is rendered round the moon and a tattoo of a coy fish wraps round the calf of orion. I sense the ghost holy and I feel the maestro drawing near.