Her canvas

Slowly her canvas started coming to life
As the evening tapered off to dusk.
She randomly vivisected the image
As a restless child would do and
Each time, ended up with a different face.
Each face was a harmony in sound
The rhythm of life's logic was all there.
A random splash of resplendent colors
A digital manipulation of a puckered up face
Seemed to be approximating to Truth.
The essential Logic still eluded her
Being the logic of the Grand Dream.
Did she know why the faces were there?
Why we were here to begin with
What if the Dreamer stopped dreaming?
Or the Cause did not lead to Effect
One thing did not follow the other in time.