we are artists

Somehow,

through the reverberations of the music we create,

we become the essence of starlight that falls through words that have no sound.

We become the center of a universe that holds its breath

awaiting the birth of time

becoming  the essence of  stars that we watch fall through the night sky.

Somehow,

we hear every note before we create it

never pondering the quest of the composition.

Though noone may hear us gently  strike the keys of our compositions in the night,

we create.

We create those sounds that have no words;

 a thought after emotion is born;

combinations of  words that whisper through our pens in unsung poems.

In the night,

we gaze upon our canvases in studios that have little warmth,

flourescent lights that are  beams of our souls  painted upon metres of  stretched cloth.

And

  we gaze into the center of our lives to find the seagull that shows us the

colours of the sea;

prussian blue and the dreams of van gogh ;

matisse courting elizabeth barrett browning in abstract lines;

the essence of the contiuum.

We strike the keys of pianos in studios in the middle of the night

when the world sleeps in midnight slumber.

We feel the chords from the depths of our souls

and

create the sound that spins from stardust

into notes and chords from works we must create though noone hears us.

Our applause is our own,

and

belongs to

a universe that spins stardust out of the chords we intermingle

with our lives.

We are artists,

We are the continuum though only the night sky hears us.