The Mud

The artist’s mind, a bed of roses, and thorns. And mud. A lot of mud. This incessant craving for innovation, learning. Always looking for that something new, so perplexing, right in front of me, yet I seek hither and thither. With each creation, a sense of conclusion, so fleeting, the tediousness of ground zero all over again. And yet I lumber, sometimes fly, sometimes shuffle, sometimes run. To draw that thread, the connection, so visceral, so abstruse. My mind and body always restless, always discontent, but for those moments. What is it I yearn for?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: