Envy of Effortless

There is something so artful about the phrase spilled ink.
A deliberate nudge to a thick glass bottle
Followed by a dull thud against hard, polished wood,
The ink seeping into its grain, 
Wicking through paper, 
Leaving a perfect puddle in its wake
Along with the inevitable droplets in accompaniment 
As though placed by some masterful, artistic hand as an aesthetic afterthought.
For those who spill ink, I do not spill ink; I don't even splatter it.
For your spill, my envy is more of a roarin...