If you have ever put your brush
Up to a canvas well-toned blank
Which you had felt for sure
Was meant to be the cradle
Of a timeless masterpiece,
And if you then have failed,
If brain cells went all askew,
Antagonistic to your concept
Which you then lost as enterprise;
If cool and warm and dark and light
And composition deep heroic
All have fled
And merged in grey and mass confusion,
Then I pray:
Condemn you not!
You tried something sublime,
You sought among the stars,
And only Don Quixote's dark enchanters
Blocked your astral way.
So though your countenance like his be sad,
Take heart in bittersweet elation
You had willingness
To serve as medium for divinity's way to earth.
Empty vessels are you, yes, but one disposed.
Disposed? No, more!
Desirous, burning, avid praying, lustful craving,
Living to contain a drop of blood from God.
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This is another poem in the treasure book of poems Ben left for us. I particularly love this one. Love, annie
old7lady9blogger80@gmail.com
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