Prison or pallet...

“painting with words”

The mind is like a prison with a thousand thoughts, like prisoners wanting and scheming to escape. They seek the daylight of expression and the serenity of acceptance.
They seek the garden of creativity where flowers may grow, go to seed and create other gardens. Am I diminished by freeing these prisoners, pardoning them for my selfishness,
releasing them on an unsuspecting and unprepared public.
Every artist has his medium. The medium of the poet is words. Releasing the words from the heart can be painful as some flowers from this garden have thorns.
The conditions for release are in the concept of “inverse complexity”, that is, the simpler the concept the greater the understanding.
Seeing ones self amongst those flowers, regardless of the thorns, is like sunshine in the springtime, like being alive for the first time and like being an artist anxious to create.

Author's Note

To create or not to create?

Reviews

[TV]

Dave, levels of reality? Levels of dimension is a more fascinating thought. If thought is a reality then does the ether around the world contain all thought, accessible to everyone with that “third eye”? If we only use 10% of our brain, what is the remaining capability we have. Thanks for the insight. T.

[Davidgeo]

Each mind is an island universe. Each body is fleshy galaxy. Everything conscious is another tier of existence with varying levels and inclinations toward interactions with other versions of something very similar. Or not. The best part of existing, to me anyway, is not really knowing the ultimate shape of our "big picture" across "deep time". People who watch movies backwards are painfully annoying to me.

I like how you think/wrote about this concept.