I stare into the masses looking for my lover on his white steed to take me far from the madness to sanctuary he lays me down, gently stealing my breath with fevered kisses hungered flesh joins, moves as one to possess and be possessed I take him into the blue skies and calm waters of my soul he fills me with storm clouds and rain we wait for life's renewal with the coming of spring two beings in harmony one body, one soul, one dream
I sit now my hair streaked with gray prematurely from life’s battles fought. I sit and mourn a life near lost and a love never found. I sit in the darkness waiting; wondering if it will ever be. Soon the lines will come from the laughter and the tears and with their coming an innocence lost. Chances of love become as scarce as a cool breeze in that hot hellish place we all fear. I feel empty but not incomplete when my son smiles. His love fills all but the deepest places in my soul. Time moves swiftly; not waiting for me. If I don’t reach out, it will pass me by like an off duty cabbie in winter leaving me stranded and cold. I reach out to taste life but fear pulls me back leaving me hungry for something I’ve never known. A love great enough to fill an emptiness that runs like a deep scare through my soul waiting to be healed. The sun rises and sets. The seasons change. And still I sit, waiting.
Like hamsters on a wheel we run mindlessly, aimlessly not realizing there is no escape unless we stop. With our blinders securely attached we fail to see what our future could be. Unable to step off, fear keeps us running on the bland, vanilla path that is our lives. We are unsure of what monsters await us in the darkness should we decide to leave the safety of the path we have chosen.
Why do the creative posses the need to touch and inspire our fellow human beings? Our all consuming creative beast is fueled by conflict and chaos. What is it about the beast that can take the pain and ugliness of our lives and turn it into something beautiful. Is it worth the self imposed isolation that comes along with it? We are castaways on our own little island. A sea of self doubt separating us from the rest of the world. It is both a gift and a curse forcing us to forgo food and sleep to express our creative need even if that need drives us to madness or pushes us to our demise. We strive to create beauty until our last breath. We share our deepest, darkest pain and inspire great joy with our work. We are our own toughest critic and our worst enemy keeping us in obscurity when we are bound for something greater.