For an artist or writer, i feel that due to the creativity coming from mind and therfore mood, this in itself encases the essence of your soul into your work. This is why many artists cannot sell their work as it feels like selling your soul. For example, if you had 25 art works, this in a sense, would be 25 pieces of your soul. This i suppose, is why we must detach if we can. Another way to look at it though, is spring cleaning your soul. Artwork, like once beautiful photographs now holding saddened memories or once heartfelt but now old redundent love letters, perhaps then can be easily isolated from us, as mere " artistic endeavors" or " old memories".

But mood of course, always plays a big part in what we are willing to show the world, or a loved one through art. Love, when told through paint or inked words, can appear very colourful.

A poem about my struggle to find inspiration

When I was loved

The colours seemed brighter

But love is exhausted now

Like the last light on a flickering candle

As the pool of wax like a pool of tears

Kills all sight by killing the flame

Just like the light that paved our way

Through the night and through the day

The colours appear upon my palette

Lifeless, grey

Now in the darkness of the night

I sometimes dream of you

A dream of our ancient wish granted true

But into the dark you ran away

The howling piano notes are here to stay

They echo now, in the halls of my mind

Beethoven’s moonlight Sonata

Is all I can find

In every dream

In every grey cloud

Like some ghost in itself come to haunt

Even when I awake, tis there to taunt

But beautiful even so

Every note perfect

Especially the notes deliberately slow

Now the paint upon my pallete gathers dust

The spiders spin their webs upon canvas so soon

So soon

Such small creatures working so hard

Silver lined webs sometimes caught by the moon

And I know dear one I should embrace the spring day

To chase the hurts, the wounds away

And in time I will

Copyright James A Battersby 08