There is nothing so beautiful
As a moment offered in whole
To the act of creation
Except perhaps
One given
To love
There is nothing so beautiful
As a moment offered in whole
To the act of creation
Except perhaps
One given
To love
Every photograph untaken
Every brush stroke unpainted
Every stanza unwritten
Every story untold
A small darkness left unilluminated
My mind
Fills the emptiness
Unspoken
Creates
Stories imagined but
Untold
I’ve never studied
What the Poets say
Nor worried much
How they place their words
Or why that way
I do not know
How to write a sonnet
I am not sure
What makes pentameter
Iambic
I hope that’s OK
No matter how many times
I look into myself
Listen to my spirit
I find someone new
I remind myself
These are all
Acts of creation
Rather than discovery
As a photographer
I have never been satisfied with
Two dimensions
A single moment in time
Or even reality
I prefer
To create
Rather than
Record
Light is my palette
A digital file my canvas
A computer my brush
And all the world
Is beautiful data
To be transformed into art
Sometimes
I know
Sometimes not
Which will touch
Which will not
Surprised, too
Often
By how they are read
By what is seen
By others
I love being in a place
Where creativity thrives
Where paint and passion
Offer more vibrance and colour
Than nature’s grandest sunsets