Of Art, Work, and Passion (Track 9, 21st Century Writings)

Art is a passion that drives me onward,
For all of this expression is a passion waiting to be set free.
To touch, to actualize, to be able to make your visions become real!
And so begins the journey, work becomes art, art becomes work, and both are driven by the passion of expression.

So here I sit in my workshop, my art, my work, and my passion.
Driven on by the work, by the art, by the expression needing to be set free.
The passion drives me onward, first in frustration,
For my hands cannot produce what it is that my mind sees,
And then because the expression begins to take form and grace.
But I always see the human in the Divine,
The imperfection that will hopefully be its own perfection.

So then there is more work, more art, and more and more passion.
The passion drives me on as a seductress that I cannot refuse.
More work, more hours, more energy, and more frustration.
But now I am getting somewhere for I am working sixteen hours a day seven days a week.
I've got to be getting somewhere, surely. I am putting in the time necessary.
But my seductress still eludes me, taunting me with glimpses of excellence,
Only to be dashed by some human element that diminished my bliss.

Gradually exhaustion begins to set in, but the adrenaline seems to compensate,
And then finally the setting free of the passion that drives me one.
Now I am locked into Art, Work, and Passion,
Now I can dance with the nymph, and I make love with my work,
My passions aroused, and we dance as if suspended in time and space.
Now I am locked into art, work and passion.
All else seems unimportant, for now I can see the expression beginning to take form.

Now it again begins to flow, now it is expressive, now I can see its beautiful form
But I am driven harder because of the imperfection that I see my hands produce. Now the world is locked outside of myself, for I am lost in my art.
So lost that I can no longer see that world revolving out there, we dance in the mystical moment this seductress and I, free from all human bondage.

Now fatigue has robbed me of my senses, and with the passion of lunacy, I press on.
I push away all that is external to the art.
Those who are close to me try to reach out to make me slow down, if only for a moment.
But I am dancing with the muse, I am harboring the nymph,
So I push them away in anger and frustration.
I must go on, there are things to be done, there are great things to be done.

Now everything has become rigid and forced, and I am no longer productive and I begin to brood.
Now my body has been driven to collapse. My mind is lost in delusion.
So now I sleep for my body will take no more,
I am finally forced to stop and see what has become of me.
To start the process of unwinding, and letting go of the muse, and relaxing.
Now I view my art from another perspective, seeing its rigidity, but its flow.
Another grand paradox, discipline and free flow of expression in the same breath.

I release the rigidity as I again enter my workshop, pick up my tools and proceed.
Now it flows, now it attains grace and beauty,
And now it is a fee flowing expression from within.
But now I lay it down in the evening, and walk away, knowing full well the seductress still lies within, and will open her doors again,
But for now the grace and beauty of expression will be there tomorrow.
And on the 'morrow, as I pick up my tools with joy in my heart,
For all that has been struggling to take form is right in front of me.