The juice, flowing from the spirit of creativity

penetrates. Unstoppable it saturates, until it is…

all that there is. A great void space where nothing exists,

but the artist, a creator, present as an entity, complete

whole and waiting. The journey begins with the first step,

the second brings a question of will, this ever end?

 

A soul may be crushed, the spirit broken, but if there exists

a seed of hope that can be sparked it will never truly end.

For the true journeyman there was never a beginning,

and the end is but a thing of fiction, the walk only a portion.

The path chosen is a multi-faceted creation, ever shifting

with each completion being the resting point of a moment,

long or short. The first mile up, down, or sideways seems easy.

The second is just so, but when the hundreds begin stacking

inside, over and upon each other, the world is forever changed.

 

Alone is a simplistic adjective only derived from what can be seen.

The public observes a dream imagined and cannot be in the darkness.

Others come, but more leave rather than stay, and are lost to the ether.

Most are never seen again, but every so often the paths intersect

to become one, again for a moment that lasts into the infinity of forever.

 

The walk, the climb, the ride is the universal heroes journey

and it is with one as it is with all and must be taken alone.

In the quiet solitude with yourself for company. Truth arrives

in the never ending sweat and tears that cleanse body and spirit

and are then lost in the deluge of creation. You and yourself

cannibalizing ideas in the creation until the soul is all that remains.

 

Those kept in the journey are held on the inside, heart bursting,

symmetrical in creation. Hands reach and clasp for a moment before

together or separated, the journey never-ending and forever, continues.

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