The World that is my Oyster

My world is a canvas

with the painting changing its shape

changing its colours

and changing its age

Depending on angle,

depending on light 

and the eyes of those catching its sight.

So please be aware that the romance on the surface

could be a crime between the lines.

And the foe holding my hand

might be the shadow of a friend.

The stranger who promised me the world

could be swallowed by the latter

and be cast into an eternal hush

by the monochromaticity of just one brush.

Amidst the peace of the wheat fields 

that are the scions of summer

there could hide a thousand monsters

or the world that is my oyster.

And if you dip it into water

the painting might show another layer

that will change shape

change colour

and change age

Depending on angle,

depending on light

and the eyes of those catching its sight. 

"The Maestro says it's Mozart but it sounds like bubble gum when you're waiting for the miracle to come" ~ Leonard Cohen

In good times and in better

Happiness is a foul companion when it comes to inspiration. At night you sink into a silky sleep bereft of dreams, and a couple of blank hours later you wake up out in the open. Overhead a cloudless sky and the sun in full bloom. But still no shadows to be found.

You think of the old times when you flitted about on a narrow ridge between vigil and swoon. Not black, not white, not on, not off, always somewhere between here and there. Inspired ad nauseam, pouring words onto paper, screens, keys, walls, windows, streets, people. Absorbing the waywardness of life with all your senses and spitting it out again in form of creative vigour. Ups and downs in a continuous stream with poems and stories intruding upon you without your wilful involvement, consuming the arts like a voracious beast. Fast, wuthering, always in motion, washing down smiles with tears and tears with a smile.

Today your tears never meet your smiles, they co-exist separated by a thick wall of steadiness. Happiness weighs heavy on your shoulders and satiates you to the core. Your muse couldn't thrive in that culture of continuity and left the ship. So you will have to challenge yourself now and tap into that bliss to create breeding grounds for a new muse, a muse without airs and graces, a muse that will be your faithful partner in good times and in better.

"The man who arrives at the doors of artistic creation with none of the madness of Muses, would be convinced that technical ability alone was enough to make an artist. What that man creates by means of reason will pale before the art of inspired beings." ~ Plato