Art is spirit
Art is the invocation of spirit
Of feeling
One buried within viewer
Cast away
Buried by self and all
Buried so small
A spell
Cast from the heart of creator
Of power?
Power uncorrupted
Volcano erupted
A fleeting feeling
The stars are no ceiling
Forever left once viewed
The world in a drop of dew
Of desire?
What more is dire
Not of the whore
Of wings that do soar
A nobility to never be felt
Steel never the same once smelt
A flower
Fall’s misty shower
Rooted to ground
Upon moon one pounds
Once touched
Why have you always walked crutched?
Of serenity?
As the still wind in movement
Sound of infinity
Of the crying hawk in sleep
Of horns sounded in the deep
Never to be felt
Once felt
True art
Lost art
Haunts one
Taunts one
Once viewed
Displayed shrewd
One believes in Ghosts
One now a host
Once felt
Cards have been dealt
Empty of self
Put ego upon shelf
For how can one self fill
When false spirit has spilled
Art is spirit
Effected when near it
A mystery to make
To truly create

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