When You Possess Light Within, You See

You Are So Terribly Nimble, So Clever. I Distrust Your Cleverness. You Make A Wonderful Pattern, Everything Is In Its Place, It Looks Convincingly Clear, Too Clear. And Meanwhile, Where Are You? Not On The Clear Surface Of Your Ideas, But You Have Already Sunk Deeper, Into Darker Regions, So That One Only Thinks One Has Been Given All Your Thoughts, One Only Imagines You Have Emptied Yourself In That Clarity. But There Are Layers And Layers - You're Bottomless, Unfathomable. Your Clearness Is Deceptive. You Are The Thinker Who Arouses Most Confusion In Me, Most Doubt, Most Disturbance.

People Who Want A Sane, Static, Measurable World Take The First Aspect Of An Event Or Person And Stick To It, With An Almost Self-protective Obstinacy, Or By A Natural Limitation Of Their Imaginations. They Do Not Indulge In Either Deepening Or Magnifying.

But The Artist Persists Because He Has The Will To Create, And This Is The Magic Power Which Can Transform And Transfigure And Transpose And Which Will Ultimately Be Transmitted To Others.

He Has, Like Me, A Sense Of Smell. I Let Him Inhale Me, Then I Slip Away.

One Must Be Thrust Out Of A Finished Cycle In Life, And That Leap Is The Most Difficult To Make - To Part With One's Faith, One's Love, When One Would Prefer To Renew The Faith And Recreate The Passion.