Chosen ones

All alone, did Van Gogh KNOW that he was a genius,
Or did his hand and eye just act in compulsive concert
Spilling onto canvas all the things he could only stammer
Because words don't come in colours like that?

All alone, she had no way of judging her worth,
But her hand and eye, acting in compulsive concert,
Just kept spilling the words onto page and screen
Because she simply had no choice.