I could sit and stare for hours.
Hypnotized by the flow of paint across the canvas.
Your hand directing the flowing colors like a director of a play-
Everything must be in place. Yet it looks so effortless…
I could be jealous of your dedication, but I am simply awe-inspired.
Should I sit from afar? Watching like a desperate disciple?
Should I pick up my brush once more?
Or should I continue with the ink?
Or should I discard them all and dedicate
To the instruments that beckon, and the tunes that sing?
Would that I had ten limbs and ultimate dexterity
To dedicate myself to all the arts that summon me.
Only half a brain to the arts, the remainder to logic
And whence shall I send these numbers and stratagems?
Writhing with indecision, how can I possibly master one-
When I am, in turns, distracted by each of the others?
Am I to be blessed with the aptitude to do all-
And, yet, be cursed to master none?
Patience and dedication, perch on my shoulders
Breed content and resolution to the tears in the fabric of my indecision.
Teach me to care and be grateful, to not care and be discontent,
Teach me the bridge between calm and chaos…
Bring me Ethos.
Bring me… the Horizons.