just wrote this
still struggling with art artists blah
hope get through soon
-- rereading feels bit (erh... quite...) uncool
uncool me
... please bear with me

***

when i'm a child
i make images
because i feel like doing it
i enjoy it
i try try
i play


when i want to be comfortable
money-wise
and with all those things
money can buy
i sell my skill
to make images
as others would want make them
or need make them
in order to earn profit
or to represent themselves
favorably
i lend them my hands and
my brain



when i burn for acknowledgement
by those deemed to be,
named to be
magicians
in the temple of arts,
masters
of glass bead game
i find new
a kind of new the guardians will nod about
will say: "it's a new!"
and some of them will blah
lots about how and why...
... while we all make some money
or even more than
most skilled hands ever dream of
... the road to fame (/a brand name) is dire



when i'm tired
because i worked so much for money
(any job!)
or i ran so much for fame
(any road!)
and got so thirsty in soul
i will make images
with skilled hands (if they still speak, do they?)
or clumsy ones
with any hands and limbs i have
with my heart
need say need say
need find myself
look down deep well
where's my water?



when i'm such a proud one
crave for holy for wholeness
for transformation
take me ages!
take me all NOWs!
... i make images
as moment tells
as heart tells
they may show where i stand
while my eyes are bit dim
to see it...
swim flow swim flow

in the end i will
look into your eyes and...
see myself



... still hold the brush
the mouse
tip tap keyboard...
till i fall off
...
eternal kindergarten!