Poetry Project, V. 10.0, Day 25

To everything I get to create - whether it's a poem, a carving, a turning, a piece of furniture, growing a plant in the garden - or better, harvesting that plant - there is a phase of every project that I enjoy the most.  It's not always the reward.  NO, when I make something in the shop, the reward is the look on someone's face when they receive it, either as a gift or as a purchase.  That is one reward - and really, that's the payout.  But there is a smaller phase, one that only I get to witness, that is all mine.  And as much as the other is great, often times, that smaller reward is, for me, the sweetest.

to create,

to carve,

to whittle and burnish,

to give birth to a form out of the ether,

and admire it in the privacy of my thoughts,

that is the sweetest reward,

where the artist looks at the thing,

the idea,

like a magical overlay that falls down,

covering the object in such a way as to make the pattern fit perfectly,

an idea no more,

these are the treasures to the artist,

what no fame can bring, and no lauds can accomplish,

but what is achieved in his own mind.

the silent reward,

the lonesome exultation,

before anyone sees it,

a joy no one will ever know.

Thanks for Reading,

Me