From The Lab

Man of Many Disciplines

Embedded deep behind the eyes,
In stagnant pools of talent, lies
A beaten drive to make the mark,
To reach a soul and touch the heart,
To tread the water to keep wise,
Creating an art pour l'art.

Through pencil marks upon the page,
Intrusions of the sketcher's raid,
Kidnaps the spirit of the thing,
With fragile lines which meekly sing
Of praises from a studied mage,
That magic that a drawing brings;

Infect the world with color bright,
In tones made duller from the light,
For what is real in canvas scenes
Could never fade the true world's dreams;
While paint can capture half the sight,
The other half's beyond it's means.

With letters carefully arranged
In words that shelter from the rains,
Protects the mind and projects thoughts,
And binding sentences that caught
Moments in time, when all's deranged;
Here lies the proof that he once fought.