...art in motion...

all i ever really wanted to do was write. its all that ever made sense.. the only place i ever really knew myself. albeit or moreso...revealed myself...
the only thing that truly came without effort.
as if it was drawn up and out of me chanelled by some introverted counterpoint with an extraverted need.
need is akin to passion. it knows no remorse,
it knows no harsh logistical rationale.
it only exists to feed its own pulsating momentum to project.
fever would come alive the moment the unleashing began- without warning, reprieve, explained purpose...i remember 10,000nights of catharsis bleeding soul pen to paper...evolving..
the only true salvation. my stream of consciousness is my path. its each and every moment of truth reflected back at you ..echoing through from chambers inside an expanse subconscious. mapping out the stars inside my mind. the wordconstellations would become great imprints into the vast woven ceiling that netted my universe.
even now my fire shifts from within, hands burn, i know not the reason.
i know only the great clearing, the epiphanies set in motion by the stroke of a key..or the pressing out of ink.
perhaps the words clearexcess...hone the resonating symbolism of life as art. rearrange the chi and concise the truth and the beauty into manageable bite-sized pieces. processing for the mind.
focus is reinstated upon the proper shifting within.
its easy to right the wrongs when they are known
in a subjective universe one only knows perspective as veritas.
if it feels good one might think its essential to survival..the hierarchy of needs is a very complicated beast when emotion, sensory and intellectual pursuits collide on meaning.
yet right is what feels true and feeling is not a fabulous judge of character.
feeling right is truth when it confronts candidly, the shadow side of thought.
clear a path for the cognisant balance that aligns heart and mind.
if its words that beg release- let them breathe,
if its paint- use the dawns as a canvas for your revelation...
do not let the rampant waves of uncertainty be subsided through feeling good alone, challenge your discomfort.
own your pain.. let great bouts of intrigue sweep you into a hysteria of direction seeking.
if you have the suspicion...follow it..
ride bareback on it through the unknown chambers..
the doors of perception willreveal infinite.
blake said it.
jim recounted it in madpoeticfervor-
and i employ it here to hone my tangent and ride its purpose out to something true.
we must express. ....explore. diverge. wander. persist. question everything.
the catharsis of creating reveals its own beautiful epiphany.
with exodus of clutter, art can be art.
and we are liberated -set forth to discover a clearer perception to witness the infinite.
just create.
your soul will thank you.