Wednesday, 22 February 2017

Christmas Aspiration Attempt - Blog Post Nine

The house I am creating is beautiful. 

I long to be able to venture further than my rooms.  But I am trapped within my self made jail.  What was once a motivation to complete my task and allow myself the fruits of my labours, has become a taunting entity at my back.  Laughing and smirking at my inabilities.  Passing comment on the futility of what I am attempting. 

The prize I fear I will never obtain.

Most of my recent days I have been focusing on the canvas in my meagre garden.  I find myself suddenly drawn to it again in a way that has been long missing.  I have produced some of my most meaningful creations and they have sold well to my mysterious collector.

Perhaps this new found lust for life has grown as I myself find that I am older.  My hair has greyed and my body tires easily.  I feel my life gone in the aches of my joints and I find my mind wandering back to the past.  A past that I can barely remember now.  A past blurred by the passing of time and the overwhelming silence of isolation.

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