When I discovered the act of taking pictures
I became obsessed with trying to capture single thing
The moon on a dark night
I wished to capture its essence with the camera
to attain the ability to acquire the wonder it gave me
and consume it on demand
My favourite was images of it over dark water
Allowing me to at once see the moon and its pale reflection
Yet the images imparted no wonder
I spent weeks staying up late into the night
Seeking a picture, any picture that could capture the moon
I wandered my rural area, taking long walks deep into the dark
My path ever illuminated by its silvery light
In the end I realized that art is limited
I could not capture the emotion I wanted in an image
Because I desired to capture it in a single picture
But the moon, its meaning, its silvery wonder
It was all too large for me
My emotion required context
And in fact that my goal, rigidly providing an emotion
Was counter to the nature of art itself
YOU ARE READING
poetic mistakes
Şiirjust my musings Feel free to leave comments or whatever but don't expect me to do anything about it. This is just a place I put what I write
