You're rolling land that stretches to the gulf

You're rolling land that stretches to the gulf.
You're mountains, valleys, the fan of a delta
that meets the infinite and nameless ocean.
You're the clouds that float above the horizon
and change their shape. You're the sentences
that blend together in the spoken narratives
of blind poets. You're the confused painting
of writers, the confounded verse of an artist
who remains misunderstood. You're the image
suggested by the pigment on the canvas.
You're the idol that my eyes have reassembled
from the chaos of strokes in composition.

But as soon as the last artifact is finished,

you reveal yourself as something different.