Age ..... Poem

AGE

Jaqi Bluh

Gripped by age
I tumble through time
changing
wondering
what am I

Gripped by time
I look up 
an apparition
a muse
a changeless

Those knowing eyes
that gaze
that stare
watching me
never seeing

How can the simple avatar
shock the heart
an illusion
not real
imagined

Gripped by age
I slip through time
slide on space
like ice
and you watch

You watch
me
be
me
aging

And you don't change
my avatar
my muse
my unreal self
my agent illusion

What will happen?
with this game
with this play
making art
like ocean spray

We are connected
like twins
the me I am not
out there
being free to be

Avatar agent
we have work to do
I am changing
aging
and you are gaming

Jaqi 
Bluh

Thursday
9
August
2018

NOTE ~   I am looking toward an exhibition exploring the avatar as a muse. You are not amused? I am amused at the role of a muse in the life of an artist. Tis a tad like Serendipity in science, a kind of goddess, but not a goddess, who reveals unexpected discoveries. For the artist, the muse inspires, and an avatar can be as a muse. The muse is not who the artist is, but the muse can amuse. And also fit that other essential role of a muse, of being timeless. There is a painting of an artist's muse climbing through the window, deserting the artist. Why? That artist had fallen into lethargy. That is when the muse would leave. As the poet Dylan Thomas once amused ~ "Do not go gently into the good night, old age should burn and rave at close of day; rage, rage against the dying of the light." Anyone, of any age, can now rage through the day and into the night, with an avatar to run with, to inspire the unleashing of the creative spirit from within. One may also recall the way of the Vikings, to die with a sword in one's hand. What does that mean? It means to go out fighting. The word is a sword, a sword of the mind. With words we can fight, creatively, as with avatars we run. It may also be noted that many artists rage deeply into ancient years, like Michelangelo did, and Picasso. To live a longer life with a thrill, get creative. Some die young, as Vincent van Gogh fell as he painted. But, he burnt more life in a few years, than many could manage in a dozen long lives, and left a legacy of amazing art, which is now absolutely priceless. In Oslo, in the Norwegian National Art Gallery, there was a small self-portrait by Vincent, in three-quarter view, with an eye glaring out through time. You could see the rage that drove the man in that painted portrait. The rage. We need to rage. Tis the fuel of creativity. Tis the glowing coals in the heart of life.