All Art Asks of You

Art comes to you, comes through you

It is not something you chase...

The calling breaks down your door

Beauty does not require contemplation

The shock factor is evident,

You feel it all the way to your bones

There is something about fragile brokenness

That speaks to our souls

I want to bottle madness, I want to show

how close to the edge the world goes

To draw out inspiration

To drink from the well of dreams

Sleep, sleep, and wake refreshed

Wake to a different fate

Paint pictures of an indescribable scene

I want to hold in my hands a beating heart

A project to display fleeting life,

Even as the blood runs

Even as the scent fades... even as the heat dissipates

That is art.

To crush a flower of the field

So gay and full of life one day...

Next ashen, crackling petals...

We do this because we wish to convey

Its incredible beauty, the soul beating through its essence

We hold human beings captive because we cannot stand the life that drives them to madness

We are clueless as to the reasons why, helpless before our fate

In awe of the destructive beauty of a lover's scream

The brokenness we face, the things we can't stand

Also the things we cannot bear to lose

We lie in tears, all righteous anger gone from our veins...

Our heads in our hands... severed arteries pumping red... away from us

It has escaped again

The bubble bursts, the senseless anger fades

We are left with a shell of what was

Such fleeting, fragile beauty

Fragrant moments, gone in an instant

We cannot help but desire to grasp... for just a moment longer

Imprison for the sake of sanity...

It is a paradox we cannot escape from

To love is to let go... to live and let live

And the obsession is in us from the start, to understand... to control every little thing

To know how and why, to know when the rain falls where it goes...

And we cannot stand that we do not, that we do not truly know...

We have followed every star through its graceful fall, we have ended up at every crater

Cradling meteors, far removed from our predicaments

We have chased the tail end of every storm

Every atom pried open, looking for its creator

peering in, demanding answers

And still it evades us, a void beyond our imagination, indeed beyond this creation itself

When it comes for us, it comes from beyond

When we chase inspiration, we are naught

We are lost to the waves that pound through us

It is only art when we let it be

When it comes calling as a reminder of our temporary hold on this thing we call life

Art requires a bit of madness anyway, otherwise it is art?

How can you look upon this beautiful scene and not despair and be filled with awe at once?

What do we have to do, but love, and hate and rage...

Try hard to preserve the emotions, match the colours...

Keep the good moments alive... and go through the rough ones, because without them, would we even now we are alive?

We are the masterpiece, you see

We are the living pieces of art... There is nothing far removed about the way the world works.

There is nothing out there that is not within us too...

Every trace of madness, every trace of rot, every forgotten thing, every beautiful and bold one

We chase and chase, but we only need look in the mirror

The greatest champions, and worst evil

In our very eyes, our souls

We are playing a game, acting on a stage, for our very own amusement

The extreme pain and loss we experience the precursor for the pleasure and the delight

We are masters of this only in that it channels through us

Nothing lives when it is suppressed...

So find your spark, and pour that madness forth, spill that art

May its colours against the page awaken a human heart

May your words be a beacon of hope,

be a space of refuge for those that have lost it all...

May you find yourself in breaking wildly with abandon against the shores of your being... there is nothing you can lose and nothing you stand to gain, you are the entire show

just play your part, any part

but feel it... truly feel it... that is all art asks of you...

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