Tuesday, August 14, 2012

The Sunset Of Dreams


“It is”, his mentor once opined, “the greatest desire of the artist to not only create a masterpiece but to be blessed with inspiration to create a thousand more.” Though Lavrenti was now long gone, the beatnik wisdom he’d regaled Spenser with remained. 

Sitting atop the outthrust arm of the ancient oak, Spenser lamented the symbolic deaths of his creativity and of any hope of remaining prolific enough to not be quickly forgotten.

Gazing into the sunset he felt no stirrings to paint its splendor, only sadness for how apt a metaphor it was for his future or lack thereof.

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