The Urge to Derandomize

Art? When my vision always frames a perfect painting?
When the sounds outside combine to arrange themselves?
When random flowing words have such a rhythm?
All thoughts pouring in, whether springs of conversation
Or quiet musing streams, get magnified by the sun;
What do you add or take from this?
Why would you recombine the moment's masterpiece?
To stop to remember it, to call it yourself,
To fling it off at others like drops of sweat—
It makes no sense
Why we twirl our hands

Until it emerges
A miraculous child
Ready at birth to take
The keys from its creator.