This old man it seems
As he paints, sketches, and dreams
Has the haziest of visions
Yet he clearly is driven
For 50 years he’s only had one goal
To craft his perfect creation
Digging a perpetual hole
The current model a vast mutation
He could have practiced with a short story
He could have built up to glory
But he needed a perfect legacy
And that is his everlasting tragedy
He’ll scream Magnum Opus!
I’ll whisper hocus pocus
If he’d only listen to me
For a truth shall set him free
No man will be known
For imperfection unshown