Dreamscape

 

Dreamscape

 

From a distant place called life

Painted across a canvass of many years

Filled with days and years of many tones

Some hues are bright while others - so dark.

The range of images are clear and present

While many others are intriguing; indiscernible.

 

Stepping closer to the work - it is a lifetime

In scope and detail however, it is incomplete.

The quadrivium of perspectives, while simple,

Much too intricate to absorb instantly.

The nine enneads formed into a square;

Threes forming a canopy of trees.

 

Reaching out to touch the painting

There is no stillness – it is alive;

Expanding equally and exponentially

It is plain to see many unfilled and unfinished

Aspects of the art where it fades to rawness

Or is pale and faint to its age.

 

Now the old man enters without fanfare

And sits alone in quiet ponder

The painting moans in aches of birth

For the work pulsates in elaboration

The colors are vivid and vibrant

As his eyes close and become blind.

 

And a ship of fools and poetasters

Carry out the last feast to all that is verse

And sail against the adverse winds

To carry the old man’s canvass to its place at sea

Where the deep waters keep the mountains

That he loved so because they hold - the next horizon.

Dedicated to Yvette; who seeks to see and touch her canvass.