~ a poem
Where do we keep finding it?
Is it right over there
Is it underneath it all
Is it even visible
It is inescapably complex
It is unnecessarily fleeting
It is dying lightly and without fear
Only to be reborne in the canvas
Awakened into recurrence
Like a virus
What else is there to do
Ideas fuel us
As long as we keep getting up
We can keep creating, shaping, crafting
So keep getting up
Keep coming up with ‘em
Go go go
There’s no time to waste
There’s no end in sight
We tell ourselves we do it to venerate beauty, to express love, to solace suffering
But perhaps, sometimes, often,
we do it merely to survive.
We keep coming down
We keep returning to something that isn’t there
It is something that may never be there
No matter how much inspirited content is carried back, conserved
And placed at the feet of one’s hearth
It is never full
It’s constantly receding
What compels one to dream here
Why continue what is less than your best self
Why keep creating all the stuff
The work and the art and the weight
Behind it all lies something un-faced
Yet remains alighted in spriting repetition
On and on, striking the flame
Personalized deadlines nearing consummation
The burden is donned and released
The motion brings about satisfaction
Completion brings on measured, inner glory
To stay and surmise providence?
One can hope.
Hoping against hope
For something within to change
Alterations are made to fancy the hole inside the one place we cannot do anything about so we fill it with things that don’t matter but we try to make them matter so we keep consuming and consuming and splashing and swiping and writing and spitting and scratching it all out upon the canvas until we feel sick then we leave for a spell soon returning because everywhere else is empty because it hasn’t been cultivated so there’s nowhere to return to.
What now? From a groundless void, what’s next?
Inspiration, wherever and whenever you can find it.
Inspiration, the lifeblood of our continuity within this voided out ruin of forgotten hopes and dream.
Inspiration, as a necessary dash from death.
Inspiry is the precondition to a good life lived.
We have to believe that.
Please keep awakening to this truth
Walk about the realm of making
Sprinkle your mornings with Pranayama
Wade through the day wielding a nascent dream which cannot be held away
Permeate the evening with a sprite of ambitious longing to be actualized among your chosen companions and co-creators
Make it all happen, make your art
Even and especially when you do not want to
And then dash it upon the canvas of your life
It breeds hope in places long past it
It imbues the soil of hearts with the buoyancy to rise against all odds
It pulses vivacious spirals of immortality into the pages of the chapters of the stories that must not go untold
In art and reality melded —
Find a way,
To remake yourself
To humble yourself
To love yourself
Again and again
Before, and for, others
Inspire yourself or die.
Inspire others and live.
~ Goodnight. ~