“True Art”

“True Art”

True art is the collective equivalent to the dream and like the dream is never addressed to the material. It is the exposition to the living of the existence of virtue, the constant reminder of the potential for catharsis, a preternatural occasion that transcends all natural laws and sets the species above its evident material state, an event as precious to the living soul as it is invisible and beyond the blindness of the walking dead whose counter proposition to reality is that the world is in itself the end and is justified by whatever the dictates of instinct. The existence of a tragic protagonist who at once acknowledges his divine origins against the backdrop his earthly mortality is the glory of his tragedy and the comic irony of his temporary lethal perdicament, the juxtaposition of eternity beyond the confines of the present life set amid the turmoil of a world whose progress is ever beyond all sensual possibilities not to mention the vision of mortals who find immortality not only their nemesis, but their avowed enemy.

2 responses to ““True Art”

  1. Wow…

    A departure of form…

    Well received 🙂

  2. I gave up writing prose years ago, but sometimes, were it not for my present health and certain restrictions on time, I sometimes wonder about it. Reading your guest posts on your thoughts has introduced the idea of it more than has been the case for me in quite some time. I do sometimes wonder what would happen if I were to extend certain poems I have written into short stories or even something larger. Certainly, if one looks at the “Spoonriver” poems of Edgar Lee Master, there are many short stories and whole novels somwhere in there. At any rate, yes, it was a departure of form…

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