Artisan

In the corner of the park there is a tree.  It is great and tall and huge, a truly awe-inspiring creation.  Each leaf is so finely crafted, unable to be truly mimicked by any artisan, no matter how they paint or sculpt.  The bark is rough but painted with designs that no hand can recreate, that no tree has ever had before.

Like the stripes of a tiger or a zebra, like a fingerprint, like the things that are so original, that never repeat and cannot be copied.

It cannot be some random idea, some quick switch-up of nature.

Have you ever seen a canyon?  Echoing and huge, pressed down and orchestrated in a nice symphony of color.  It is large and enough to bring anyone to silence.

And also, fields, rivers, valleys - the oceans.  Gorgeous things that no matter how much anyone tries they cannot get it just right, cannot mimic the exact flow of the water, the feeling of flight, the motion of a boat, the cool sand.

But in doing so they create something of their own.  And though people will try they can never truly copy the work.

Photographs and print-outs can only scratch the surface of what a thing is.  So unique and powerful it takes all your senses to even grasp the concept.

For there to be such a fantastic world, there must have been an artisan, once, long ago, who decided to write and sculpt and paint, and made these gorgeous running lands.

This world was made by a master artisan.