Art

Art, Art where for art thou Art?
Oh Art, I love you
You help me to be birthed anew
But how can I touch you?
Have you flow through me?
To feel your chi
To be in engaged
To create you
Oh Art, pour onto my page
How do I train the eye not to sigh?
How do I train the limb to give into my every whim?
How do I train the arm to farm my charm?
How do I train the hand to understand
The simple command to expand into the grand dreamland?
Where is Arts perspective?
Are you really so selective and objective?
I know you you’re a detective
In the affective, effective directive
Of the protective collective
Art is in prison in me
It knows not why
To myself I must lie and deny
So it is not released
All the while it dances in my head
Ever fed by all the unsaid
Taunting and haunting
It tells me it will not come out
Because the hand the mind is in doubt
That is why your creativity is not your stout
You think too much but don’t do touch
You hope too much but don’t do such
You try too much but don’t do much
I envy the artists
The shamans
For it is both their job to make a
Inwards journey and bring back
What is needed to give to others
In order to be seeded
This helps them to be interceded
No longer feeling defeated
By that all has been impeded
Then one day find they are
Treated as the ones who
Have truly succeeded

By Jessica Schab