The Arty

THE ARTY

The arty, silent servants of the high masters of art from the forgotten land of spirits
Where the breathing, introverted river of life rests
High masters, serene spirits floating upon the calm surface of the river of life
Under the loving, warm gaze of the original sun
The light, humble sun wearing illumined robes weaved by the ever-creating hands of Kreya, the goddess of creation
Robes made out of unnamed colours inspired by the nomadic, fragrant breath of the river of life
The very breath that would rise to impregnate the infinite, hovering space of nothingness, so more space can be born
This infinite space, the art gallery that exhibits the newly created, imperfect works of the master artists
Works of yet to be dreamt, fluorescent dreams that leave voyeuristic Gods in awe
The very Gods that peer through all to see pure beginnings
So as to remember the secret power of forgetting

These fluorescent dreams. Worlds to which the light spirits of the arty would travel to
To fetch vibrant yet to be learnt lessons of creation
The arty with minds stilled by images whispered into life by merchant winds
Merchants that exchange the mystery of things to those that offer to part with their cherished, glistening thoughts
The silent ones
So they can again be the instruments of Kreya
So they can feed the hungry universe with creation
So we can finally speak the language of our gods