A Good Kind of Lost
This is what they don’t see.
The colors, one blending into the other,
some on purpose, some not;
the experiments blending,
trying to create new shades and hues
to tell your story,
the ones that work
and the ones that fail miserably,
the brush strokes, tentative and unsure,
painted on the sides of the palette
before ever put to paper,
the pieces of paper destroyed by misjudgment
or a flaw in perception,
the emotions that drive you,
joyful, painful, real, deep and too often invisible
until you begin to paint in earnest
and failure and success cease to have meaning.
About this poem
I tend to get lost when I am creating – in whatever form that might be.
It’s a good kind of lost.