The Hidden Art

I fear that I shall not glean the surface of my mind and that all that creativity that flows within it will stay trapped there. I know that beyond some door, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, there is a well of creativity, a room bursting at the seams with ideas that chase each other, tumbling and rolling in splashes of colour and light and energy. Beyond that door is not a room, but an entire realm, living, breathing - infinite. But somehow the key is hidden, and so far all I have experienced are those tiny pools, which leak from beneath the door and drip from the keyhole, melding together and beckoning you in, only to prove they lack the depth that they promised.

I fear that I will continue to present only the obvious - the tip of the iceberg that sits above the water, gleaming in the daylight, tall and proud, but lacking majesty and mystery. For the magic lies with what is beneath the surface, beyond the tumult of thoughts that revolve around a dull routine and mundane concerns. It lurks, letting the obvious take the credit for its subtle work, for wherever the surface turns its head, the lurker is directing. Theirs is a marriage between marionette and puppetmaster. The marionette is on display, laughing and teasing and basking in the attention it receives, but the puppetmaster sits in the shadows, bristling with pride and grinning with satisfaction, because he knows that the puppet above is only a shadow and a product of his work below.

But I fear that the puppetmaster cannot be harnessed. I cannot help but want for his genius to be omnipresent and easy for me to reach into to pull out a masterpiece. I fear that the brilliance will forever be hidden, and that I shall be tortured with the flotsam and jetsam that I am allowed; for who, seeing only some tiny corner of the night sky all their life, would not long to see the entire universe? The potential is present, it is just a matter of learning to utilise the majesty and grandeur guiding us towards creativity in our short moments of madness. For only the insane truly know the genius of humanity.