I saw the future. I painted it on the back of a fag packet. There was enough space, trust me, For emptiness. I got the impression that something was wrong When I saw the sands of time running in reverse. I witnessed each grain of sand defy gravity, Fighting themselves To comfortably settle into the top bowl. They didn't squabble. They didn't argue. They knew the drill, Even if I didn't. If the future is so empty Why would the sand run to it? Why would it return to a desert? Maybe because it knew then That which we are only just cottoning on to: The king of the desert Is he who digs the deepest well.
Francisco Goya, Spanish romantic painter, was born today in 1746.
Vincent van Gogh, Dutch post-impressionist painter, was born today in 1853.
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Like the closing line.