THE ARTIST SPEAKS

"Seeds of regret and wonder lie
In every work of hand and eye,"
so said the aged artist
and in his hand and in his eye
lay passports of ancient issue
to cross the barbed borders of time:
“and thus we aspire,” said he,
“to ultimate immortality.”

Know you this, my friend,
We have always found a use
for the artist, though oftentimes
we have not used him well
as with the wild flutter of a butterfly
pinned to the corner of a page.
He continues that he may create
this artist, this maker:
we should give him disciples, rapt and wide-eyed.
If worst comes to worst, or best to best,
he will endure.

And also know, and mark it well,
that he who fashions prayers and dreams
and fantasies not always light and pretty
does not precisely pick and choose
but offers these erstwhile prayers
high enough to shadow heaven
or shine a living light in hell.

And, further, you should understand
he pleases you who cannot his own self please.
He husbands energy
and has no hand free to hold:
though he may court the bloody tyrant
or decorate the court with ruby tears.
Listen well: he speaks with sweet breath -
a zephyr in a tempest.

He has given us but a frail hold
on the mundane unrealities:
trees that breathe
and the picturesque gluttony of fools
and wisdom too.
And love as it hardly was:
still and unchanging
constantly made and never had.

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Cover picture:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/mike_coxe/3489059530/sizes/o/in/set-72157617424699231/