Subtle Difference

A subtle difference:

it's a subtle difference of knowing - from a claim and followed explanation, to the simplicity of being of the experience itself, immersed, and no words will offer justice later. Even poets fail, forced to metaphors that still only touch a certain level. Yet an artist tries because there is a knowing, something spoken from the depth that's eager to come through. 

what comes from here needs no explanation. 

and perhaps it's more true to say an artist doesn't know, and here it comes to that sublet difference - that there is really, only, the experience alone, with no one there to claim it. Great art is of the moment, an artist disappears into the unknowable landscape of right now. Indeed, it's here that nothing can be known, with no direction of brushstroke, or poets next word, but only the doing itself, art in self-creation, and only after does an artist appear. 

in this sense, the subtle difference is that there is no one present to truly know each moment. There's only the story told after. No one knows how life will be directed, of how infinite matters coincide, unfolding every instant. We live in mystery. 

we live as mystery. 

of course, again, these are just words written from the moment - from the very start I was doomed to fail in explanation offered. Yet I've enjoyed my moment here, an allowing instant of the mystery, without guess to any words that may appear. There was just writing, an easy happening of its own, without need to know of any theme, nor wish to offer meaning. 

just words.

and that's the subtle difference. 

~

Peace, Eric