What is art?

When I put my pencil to the blank paper,
don't know what the outcome will look like.
It's the anticipation of the end product,
that entices you...
to draw what you're intending on doing.
Drawing for many people is an outlet,
where the pen acts like a free-flowing tap
into those feelings which can't be expressed in mere words.

Actions often get spilt onto paper,
a roaring wild fire which spreads like there is no end.
Raw emotion put on paper,
creeping across the plains of white,
the pen crosses the bare landscape
splashing feelings and emotions,
allowing that outlet to flow with a constant rush,
and pure feeling poured out onto paper.

The brain is blank to the paper
even when your hand is moving.
It's not your brain telling it where to move,
but your still-beating heart,
a direct connection to the pen
until all is drained of what you kept inside;
once bottled up then let go,
free to its will.

Once the heart is stopped,
your head comes to realise
what has happened,
but doesn't know how it happened
or where it came from.
Just a slight sense of relief,
and a last breath before the end.

The rushing tap is closed,
the vessel ready to be filled again.
Art is an outlet,
where anything kept within is released.
It matters not which emotion,
or how intense it can become;
rather, how easy it is to release,
when the pen is put to paper.