Impressionism (Revamped)

'Tis not the time of life
To be merely suffered through
It's rather to be savoured--
Every moment known as true.

The Painter has a vision
To which the Canvas is not privy,
Tis only for the Canvas,
Her postion to go on living.

She wimpers all the while, impatient
Wondering what the Painter sees
He smiles and continues, just pliant
He to has plead with her to be.

He talks her, from time to time,
To remind her that He loves her
This small creation in the making,
Forgets often that she's authored.

Adoring ever is this Painter,
More so than his subject
Who forgets to love the process
And the becoming of the object.

It's not the end that matters
It's the progress that is made,
For truly no stroke is formed
That the Artist has not bade.
-T. Emerson

Noiseless

Oh for the state of the noiseless soul
To release in me, encompassing and whole

That no static and soundless noise may intrude
On the subtle, mute, waveless interludes

Of a soul so engrossed in a pure existence
Total and aware of true purpose and instance.

I long for the peace of a seeming isolation
That never dispermits any other relation.

A balance--that for which it must be striven
Effort or more must hitherto be given.
-T. Emerson

Once Upon a Time and Someday

I believe in the rest of the story
I believe there's still ink in the pen
I have wasted my very last day
Trying to change what happened way back when

I believe it's the human condition
We all need to have answers to why
More than ever, I'm ready to say that I
Will still sleep peacefully
With answers out of reach from me until?

Someday all that's crazy
All that's unexplained
Will fall into place
And someday all that's hazy
Through a clouded glass
Will be clear at last
And sometimes we're just waiting
For someday

We are born with a lingering hunger
We are born to be unsatisfied
We are strangers who can't help but wander
And dream about the other side of?

Every puzzle's missing piece
Every unsolved mystery
More than half of every whole
Rests in the Hands that hold you for someday?
-Nichole Nordeman

It is mind boggling to think or imagine that even the most beautiful things we experience now are only divorced and compartmentalized facets of what used to perhaps all fit together, and now cannot. Someday it'll once more be as it was once upon a time. And maybe be even more real because Man will know the difference.