The Exhibit

 

the soul splashed on the canvas,

naked and pure,

for all to evaluate,

condemn or praise,

the artist,

proud but vulnerable,

sipping coffee in the corner,

while art lovers shuffle through the exhibit,

reverently,

chatting softly among themselves.

 

 

The Gallery

 

a temple to creation,

walls filled from ceiling to floor,

paintings and sculptures,

express dreams experienced,

places seen,

and moments sought,

when the spirit free,

the touch of the Divine,

sensed on the fingertips,

or in the camera's eye,

that holiest of moments,

when creations inspired,

as if,

the voice of God heard,

and understood,

eternity shared,

filled with ghosts,

both good and bad,

both happy and sad,

the spirits dance,

in a temple to creation,

the walls filled from ceiling to floor.

 

Douglas Polk