I may be Art <br />in the way that he was, she was <br />in the way that you, <br />most certainly, are – <br />in its truest form… <br />in its own brilliance; <br />a sun that blazes away <br />the unnecessary haze <br />of each new day. <br /> <br />I may be Art <br />spoken aloud in a bustling room <br />above the clank <br />of coffee cups <br />picked up and set back down <br />on wooden tables - <br />echoed in each scrape-sound <br />of every chair as it’s drawn <br />closer to the stage. <br /> <br />I may be Art <br />that exists alone, for its own self <br />having found the virtue <br />of residing there <br />on the page, inside a drawer <br />of the small chest – <br />within which beats a heart <br />that grows with every <br />word laid bare. <br /> <br />I may be Art <br />not just the end state creation of it <br />nor the beautifully endless <br />process of it <br />but by the natural existence <br />of a self <br />now too large to ever <br />be fully captured; <br />soaring, brave. <br /> <br />I may be Art <br />but am not the artist <br />nor the representation - <br />that partial truth <br />that bled out onto the page - <br />I am rather (perhaps) <br />an artful essence <br />only ever partly reigned, <br />incoherently sane. <br /> <br />I may be Art <br />created not for itself <br />but existing regardless <br />to be seen, understood <br />by the one consummate reader <br />that doesn’t need the words - <br />the one that hears <br />what’s never fully conveyed <br />and whispers the same. <br /> <br />Yes - <br />I may be Art… <br /> <br />but if I am – <br />I am only… <br /> <br />for you.<br /><br />Christine Austin Cole<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/art-for-an-audience-of-one/
