Image Credits: John Hernandez on Unsplash.
A finished painting, better left unpainted
The artist with an empty mind
Watched his brush strokes become tainted
Void of creative design
He pulled his hair, pondered and waited
For rhythm and for rhyme
The Song of Silence he so hated
Brought death to his sublime
Heavy eyes, his heart was jaded
His portrait without life
Melancholic he is antiquated
To be forgotten beyond his time
“Grant me vision! Grant me light!”
He cried to the stars of night
Godless and insane
Was the Preacher of the sky
He only wished to break all chains
And defeat the father of lies
And when he tried to count the names
Of those he had saved
He found there none, the hellish games
Had claimed them all as slaves
He fell down broken and afraid
Separated from the gods
He counts his crimes and charades
Awaiting the hall of frauds
“Give me a sign and end this night!”
He cried into the empty sky
Empty and without purpose
Was the Scholar of renown
His greatest riches were now worthless
No kingdom but a crown
He recalls a time when a young apprentice
Whom he taught all he’d known
Left to live life stelliferous
So the scholar travelled alone
Without a map, without a compass
In the night the Scholar roams
To know the cosmos, it was so pointless
When the stars all point to home
“Who am I to exist this night?”
Cried the dispirited erudite
It began in the halls of the divine
With golden pillars and silken drapes
The Artist clamors and he cries
For his portrait, a primal ape
The Scholar enters with a glass of wine
A smile filled with contentment
He broaches the Artist with a sigh
Arrogance and resentment
“My dear friend, you mustn’t cry
Your art fills me with impression!
For every stroke will please the eye
And reveal your great depression!”
“Enough” The Artist cried, “You cut me with a knife”
“You speak as though you have died, jealous of my life”
The Scholar winced in pain
And feigned illness too
“Were I but a broken man
I would lie and cry with you”
“I have heard enough!” The Priest exclaims
“This has gone too far
You condemn this man and his pains
Have you no beating heart?”
The Artist chimes, “You name me broken
Your logic is your hell
Your pride and your ego’s spoken
They bind you in a cell”
“Cast away emotion” the Artist chimed “And you commit self treason!”
“Drown in the ocean” the Scholar replied, “When you forget the power of reason!”
“Gentlemen!” The Priest exclaims
“You argue with persistence!
Perhaps I can end this game
Of meaningless existence!
Before you a divine trial
Sent from heavens above
Break away the devils beguile
And embrace the power of love!
Witness strength on your knees
And devote yourselves to faith
A man is strong when he loves peace
And lives with self restraint!
So sing with me the songs and hymns
And I shall save you from within!”
The Artist shakes his head
The Scholar left in laughter
The Scholar cried “God is dead”
The Artist chimed thereafter
“I cannot live amongst the church
Their doctrine is my frustration
I rather struggle, limp, and lurch
Than lose my inspiration
They take you and they break you
To lose all sense of self
Break their rules and they forsake you
To a life of living hell”
The Scholar smiles, nods and agrees
Loudly clears his voice, then proceeds
“You speak of heaven with such faith
I face a contradiction
To pray and worship imperceptible space
Is the source of my confliction
Today you claim the power to heal
The broken and afraid
Then martyrs draw their swords with zeal
And leave destruction in their wake
Yesterday in ecstasy
You burned people to the stake
Your rationale complexes me
You say they fell from grace
Tomorrow a mystery, you would have me believe
So you take my coin then my life, such is the god of thieves”
The Priest listened intently
Biting his lower lip
The Artist speaks gently
“You sail a sinking ship”
To the Scholar “You once were a King
Yet now a wandering vagrant
Your fall is all what history sings
A melodious arrangement
You thought yourself no danger
Your eyes reveal your surprise
Yet I recognize you stranger
And your kingdom’s bloody demise
All these paintings I have painted and poems that I wrote
Are all recorded in the tomes of history you quote!”
A final chord begins
To end the minor song
The strings, the horns, the drums and winds
O chorale of amber dawn!
A parade of fairies, sprites, and nymphs
Dancing down the hall
O Titania! Come sing the hymns!
And begin the cosmic ball!
Behind marched men clad in steel
Their crest known near and far
The horn was blown and they all kneeled
To the Saint Joan of Arc
“In Heaven’s grace if I am not, may God put me there;
And if I am, may God so keep me!” Loudly she declared
“Such profound faith” exclaimed the Preacher
“Her devotion leaves me breathless!”
The Artist chimes, “Titania shall be my teacher!”
“I must learn to know my senses!”
The Scholar cried “But wait my friends!”
“Look! Behold the eloquent rider!
Her brilliance and wisdom surpasses men
Teach me! O Princess Ida!”
Behind Ida, flower girls threw crimson petals
To the preludes final cadence
Stars explode and when the stardust settles
So enters the flying phoenix
All eyes then watched the horizon
For the coming of the amber dawn!
Lydian chords are sung
Backed by choral ostinato
Skies are kissed by the amber sun
She warms them with bravado
Iridescent she dressed
Regal, she treads the sky
And all who gazed at her smile were blessed
By the infinite spectrum of light
She raised her hands. O Morning Glory!
At her side the Phoenix perched
She began to dance and she sang the story
That only gods and stars have heard
And with each step she paints with bliss, the skies and the sea
So the nights shall glow with Aurora’s kiss and synchronicity
Her beams of light, the mother of creation
Gave the flora the strength to grow
And every sapling became a tree of ancient
Wisdom of the world
All men, all women, children and fae
Knelt to the rising sun
For the night has ended. O Glorious Day!
Lead us O Amber one!
O Queen of Amber! May your reign
Guide us to absolution
And with the night, you bring Selene!
To grant us resolution
Hail to the rising sun!
Hail to the amber dawn!
The Artist was transfixed
“How eloquent was her verse!
She warms the soul and heals the sick
My spirit has emerged!
Her dress, her hair, her crown of daisies
And her prose has brought me catharsis
I am freed from the demons that once dazed me
Now I gaze at Aurora Borealis
To paint like her, how I wish I may
Possess the heavens in my hands
O Van Gogh, Picasso, and Monet!
They must have seen her dance!
To inspire is to be inspired
The soul of art shall never tire!”
The Priest exclaimed, “ I now can see!
The grave errors of my credence
I longed for heaven yet would not believe
I was my own impedance!
I climbed up mountains and touched the skies
And I prayed for divine love
Yet I failed to see before my eyes
O amber goddess, dawn above
Queen of lions! O Daughter of Ra!
I stand in salutation
My purpose clear, to shine light in the dark
O arbiter of creation!
To heal is to be healed!
The preacher’s fate is now sealed!
The Scholar nodded and timidly agreed
“I see I have lived in fear
I watched the world through lens of greed
And now abundantly clear
I watched the goddess with her grace
Dance with heavenly fire
Like lightning and thunder she struck my face
And rained with pure sapphire
I thought the Princess was the light
But no, my journey has just begun
I bend the knee O Queen of Skies!
O amber dawn, O amber sun!
My purpose is to find my purpose
I found it! My life is no longer worthless!”
The Scholar, the Priest and the Artist
All embraced with love
They thanked each other then departed
And thanked the Goddess above
The scholar lived a peaceful life
In a village by the ocean
And with each dawn he cherished light
Embracing his emotion
The Artist painted, sang and wrote
For he the chronicler of time
And with each piece he touched each soul
For he knew the cosmic rhyme
The priest in lotus, lost in meditation
Reduced to dust and joined creation
And so begins the end of the cosmic ball
Where heavens and earth align
Where seekers of truth find golden halls
And cords of life entwine
Heavens and earth from near and far
Joined hands in the apotheosis
For every being was once a star
They exploded to become conscious
And every painting, song and prose
Entwines us through space and time
To hand another the Empyrean Rose
A bouquet for metanoic minds
O Fermata! A final chord is played!
The song has ended until the dawn, O new day!