To follow in the footsteps of dozens of creative individuals;
a stepping stool of wisdom, brought down slowly with words and time;
To sweep the beams and buttresses of the overhead with thought;
To see the world as spines
as a series of circles and rhombi,
broken down,
layered,
layered,
layered;
To know that reality is never truly real,
that the truths we accept are only something that we feel inside;
and to know that magic
is in the tips of your fingers,
when they are pressing softly into palm,
or wielding the deadliest weapon of all,
a pen.
For Mark it all comes too studiously,
The time spent hunched over clean toothed paper,
searching for the correct arch of spine,
the perfect glint in the eye.
hours and minutes, building to days,
ten thousand hours pulling him to a goal of
perfect artistry.
Good one!
LikeLike