They twist their fingers, weaving language and paint into twisted patterns that clothe those who understand. Their melody makes the waters sing again, even though it is but for a moment. If I sang along my throat would burn.
They spin the melody on golden wheels, name it “Art,” and send it flurrying into the heavens. It flies out of my reach. But if I touched it my fingers would burn.
The melody – “Art,” they say – soars higher and must break, shattering into pieces that fall into new earth. I reach out my hand hesitantly to catch some of the glittering shards. I bleed and I know.
They look at the shining ashes, smile sadly and walk back into darkness.
All I can do is pretend to see.
2 responses so far ↓
soulvessel // 20 May, 2008 at 4:17 pm
This is my venting of a personal frustration of mine- the incomprehension of art. Artists have messages…they just aren’t willing to share them with me.
Avis Bailee // 11 August, 2008 at 6:56 am
I think Misunderstanding means A failure to understand or interpret correctly. A disagreement or quarrel.