Poem: World Weary

The sun itself is filtered

through clouds

then wafting green leaves

window blinds

short-sighted eyes.

We live in shadows

because we cannot endure unapproachable light 

And some of us know that we live in shadows.

Others mistake the shadows for true light

and call themselves visionaries.

The artistic vision filters too.

A blinding flame

quickly unveils itself

like a flasher on a subway train

speeding through a dark tunnel.

We grasp what little spark we can reach

of the still-flickering idea.

Even so, it dims 

as it passes 

from spirit to mind

and from mind to the creating hand:

words and 

images and 

the elements of storytelling must be used.

Then, the work finished,

is filtered even more

in the mind

then the heart of the reader;

they believe they have caught the flame of our idea

but it is pale fire.

We must accept this:

The world is full of declension.

In this world, 

Everything bright is dimmed.

Everything filters down.

I am weary of all these shadows

of making them

of trying to see the light beyond them.

I am weary of these filters.

Oh to see the  clear sun

without blinking.

To see the heart and soul and joy and pain of another.

To spiritually, emotionally, intellectually

grasp the artistic vision

to perfect it

that all may read it

and understand it

and feel it perfectly.

To see God in all His brightness

the true brightness

from which all bright souls

and bright visions

and bright sunshines come