Your definition of satisfaction amuses me….
If I introduced you to an artistic woman who painted you in the world around her and compared every beautiful sight to the beauty of you, you would secretly wish for a poet who could write sonnets and speak words of love and romance and sex to you at night as a part of foreplay….
Give you that poet?
And you would secretly fantasize about the familiarity of the artist and the beauty she brought into your life because of her depiction of the world and how she was able to see you all around it….
And if you had both?
You would have daydreams of courting a singer who would drive your worries and your stress away with the melody of her voice and the feelings she would invoke in your soul with her words of song…
Now this is where it gets amusing…
In a dry sort of way…
Because when the artist starts to paint the world gray because she’s started to notice that you daydream when she shows you her “life” and she, enthusiastically and conveniently, leaves you out of the painted world that used to consist of nothing but you…… You say that she doesn’t make you happy anymore
And when the poets’ work becomes cold and distant and bitter because you no longer pay attention when she speaks….You say that she isn’t what you’re looking for…
And when the singer no longer has the inspiration to sing and her voice loses the soul and melody of her rhythms because you’ve started to turn on the radio instead of asking for her voice…..You say that you need more than she can give…
And what do you do?
You find the photographer who can capture a million emotions with a single “click” and who can see your soul through the lens of her camera
Instead of putting color back into the artist, inspiration in the words of the poet, and creating beats for the singer to sing to
You’re once again, easily enamored..
With a new feeling
The freshness of this unknown
The challenge of capturing another keepsake
You’re in love with the newness of love
And you’ve got it down to an “art”
And just as the artist collects art and moves on to new pieces and canvases’ when she gets uninspired
Just as the poet finds new words to express herself when old ones have seemed to lose meaning
Just as the singer finds new songs because the old ones no longer leave goosebumps on her skin
You find something new….
And we become that old painting in your attic, that old poem in your worn notebook, and that song that’s left on a cassette when everyone else has moved on to CD’s
So don’t cry me a river when the artist finds new inspiration and moves on to create an art gallery of the paintings she painted of you…
Don’t sell me a sob story when the poet writes books upon books of the poetry that is filled with your old love as she reminisces with a light heart and tells stories of the new love she’s found
And when the singer makes millions off of her sad love stories that were raw and deep and emotional, don’t feel regret…
You were so busy chasing the unattainable, that you were blind to what you already had
And the photographer?
She never even gave you the chance. She saw how broken your soul was through her camera….
She saw the “keepsakes” of your past and realized that your talent was
The art of women
But the fundamental rule of being an artist?
Is not about finding a million things and calling that inspiration,
It’s about finding that “one” thing and allowing it to inspire you in a million different ways….