Captive

Beautiful and faraway
untouched by me
but maybe you
cause you are part
of it…
Lovely and hazy
green and dusky
allure and realness
touching the edge
of his cloak…
It’s just like touching
the edge of his cloak.
The wind blowing
the veil, to reveal
a brief
beautiful
intensely real
moment of it
It that we all
long for
It that we all
cry for
It that we all fear
we shall go to our
graves never knowing
That nameless, tuneless
song that a piper,
somewhere
calls to us with.
The one that lets
us know
in our very
depth of being
that our souls
are the captives
of another
No matter how
they resist or
pill or fight
or deceive or
yank and cry.
We all know
we all recognize
the song, the call
of I Am drawing that which was
made for him
to him.

Just to say-

nothing good to say... words are pitiful excuses for the happenings of this world...even words cleverly strung together. They same must be said for drawings... except one thing about drawings:

There is one subject that when I draw it, I feel like its getting intoxicatingly close to a pretty good excuse for the real thing. That it when you look at it, it helps you to feel the thing, to truly experience it perhaps even more that if you were really looking at it. It creates a tempo, a beat..slow for a while...then faster... stopping short and focusing your attention..screaming here! look here! isn't it beautiful! The experience of the drawing is enough to take your breath. For me at least. It is the drawing of the human body, the most equisitely designed of all God's creations. It is perfect. It has unity and variety, it has humor and deathly seriousness. It has a light show like nothing you've ever seen and definitly should be seen in the round. It draws your eye along lines so quickly that you forget where you started. It is impossible to find your favorite place and stay there...you have to keep going, keep following the design that only an omnipotent and omniscient mind could have come up with. A (good) drawing of the human body tells you oh-so-much about the artist..about their view of life, about their personality..about their emotions. My drawings pretty much shout that I am intoxicated by the process. Addicted to it...in love with it. It has been said of my lines.."look how lovingly they are done...like a caress."

Anna laura- is there something that feels like this to write about? Just wondering. I don't think, if I live to be one-hundred and forty, that I will ever find anything that I love to do as much as draw.

Perhaps- to paint.

I should have stuck to ballet...

Yo yo. I'm in Lynchurg, actually. At a school for talented ballet dancers...highschool aged...we watched them rehearse for the Nutcracker today...it was breathtaking. A boy of 16 can capture the essences of manhood and grace married and explosive, and in the next instant, throw his shoes down and yell, "touchdown!". Hysterical. We got a little tiny pixie girl to teach us a few moves...and then we were hysterical. Wish you all could have been here...