Author Information
Wounded Ego
Running towards the fading light,
Chasing what was taken for granted.
Running further, ankles swollen,
Mirrors illuminate the way with narrow laser beams.
The boundless carriage is thundering beside me,
Not horse driven, but I’ll soon be drawn and quartered.
The focus is on my failing vision;
Painting tapestries in monochrome palettes.
Searching for what is owed;
Working fingers with seeds unsewn.
Life may reap, but choose not to reward,
A favour beyond a door without a keyhole,
Opening to tempt a wounded soldier,
Charging forward with fear, intimidated;
I see what I had been waiting for,
Falling through what was neglected below.
Art In The Eye
"Art is in the eye of the beholder," the poet said. "No it is not," the metaphysician surrealists replied. "Art is the exudation of strong emotional balance." ~~A~~