Unfinished Painting

It has been ages since I last touched a paintbrush - perhaps about a decade since I last completed a painting. It troubles me to see an unfinished painting. It calls out to me. It teases, provokes and belittles the person in me that daubs the paint.

I don't trust my eyes and hands to produce a painting of any worth. I trust my mind in conceiving, and bringing to imagined existence these images and scenes, but beyond the musing lies nothing but empty ambitions.

It is just a waste of time and resources. Leave the paintbrush to real artists. They have the hands to create beauty even out of sorrow.

I am after all, just a quasi-artist.

Skyscape

I am an artist, I can't resist the sight of the sun
beginning its ceremonious descent into blanket earth
while trees at a distance - like tendrils of the most delicate
of ferns, reach out to caress heaven,
and the painful brightness
silver draped in blue and grey
skyscape where heroes rise and fall
where battles are fought,
where peace struggles to reign,
where love gropes for triumph,
where imagination runs wild
breaking through twigs and shrubs,
breaking through grey blue forests.
It is painfully beautiful to behold -
skyscape, as the sun begins its descent into blanket earth.

May 11, 2003