Wednesday, August 23, 2006

a mission statement

it is my goal, better yet my hope
that motivation and inspiration take place here.
that the dream and the want and the desire
flow from his heart, through his pen, finally onto paper.
that the beauty of his soul spills onto the pages
displaying the true beauty and facisnation i see everyday.
that it is i who stand up for him and encourage as he has all these days.
for me.
that through this all,
he aspires, and grows, and becomes confident, and strong in all his talent.
pursuing every dream, every goal, every heart in reach
and beyond.
forgetting his 'cannots' or inhibilities, forgetting his own worst critic.
it is his beauty that is displayed through the words he writes, the places he creates,
and those he wants us to fall in love with.
what meaningless doodles to her
are his perfections displaying her true beauty.
her hand, her hand wanting so desperately to create
but does none of the sort-
or so she thinks.
he compliments, suggests, and encourages.
she replies, refusing, and rejecting.
nevertheless, the thought of him still by her side
is reason enough to try once more.
as her bursh dances on her canvas,
moving in such a way,
displaying new curves and twists she notices
that each of her works is inspired by him.
it is HE she paints, it is HE that ispires,
and it is HE that she loves.

the artist

It is days like this that make me wish i were the artist,
the one that formed you so perfectly.
the one responsible for every flawless curve and hair,
smile and beauty mark.
but it is not i who painted you.
the one above mastered his creation,
sending him to me on the wings of a dove to heal.
sometimes i wish it were i who sent you down.
down from my perfect surroundings,
down to another.
someone else in need.
in need the way i was months ago.
sometimes i feel your work with me is finished. finalized. complete.
you have crafted me, opening my eyes to new possibilities,
a more innocent way to view,
and yet, you are still here.
never anxious to end what you have started.
and it is at that moment that i realize that it is not i who is the artist,
but rather, you.
you spend time on me daily with your patient hand,
perfecting my imperfections and molding me anew.
you have painted my heart,
filling each spot with your love,
replacing my hurt and replenishing my spirit.
it is moments like these that allow me to realize that
the one above sent the artist to me to paint me a new life.