No Artist Within Me, No Telescope At My Eye

Four, almost perfectly symmetric cylinder like pieces, smooth to the touch. All branching off of a waist no more than 15 inches in circumference, all tied together by a center button. Each part tan and each with 5 slender points darting out in every direction. Their tips coated in maroon and their base draped in gold. It felt almost disturbing how long these two colors could captivate me once they are placed together on a tan backdrop. I wanted to walk around and explore each piece as if in a museum. A fifth shape, lying atop the waist on a graceful support beam, finished off the star shaped body. I pictured her as the only light in a darkened sky, with each limb giving off a warm glow, stretched out as far as they could, escaping my eyes reach. I pictured myself lost at sea using this star as my only sense of direction. She would guide me to the place where I were to rest next. The time spent studying this piece of art gave me butterflies. The butterflies escaped my gut and surrounded her, only adding to her allure. Taking myself out of the situation helped me understand the work done to create such grace and elegance. It took my breath away, such a natural phenomenon, and one that boggled my mind. However, I cannot keep this piece of art to myself, as much as I would like to, I cannot. If it were up to me I would never share what my eyes have seen. If it were my decision I would selfishly display it for myself. A select few would be lucky enough to catch a glimpse from afar but none would get to study it like I have. If it were up to me, but it is not.