A carousel on the marina, a harbor of spies, a yard of windows either reflecting the surface of things or rewriting the legend. Turning mirrors make up the illusions of life ~ a dream, intangible perception. Yet within every fleeting moment contains clues to a bigger picture. And every LF piece is a portal into Paradise.
Kaleidoscope ~ The Conversation
A carousel on the marina, a harbor of spies, a yard of windows either reflecting the surface of things or rewriting the legend. Turning mirrors make up the illusions of life ~ a dream, intangible perception. Yet within every fleeting moment contains clues to a bigger picture. And every LF piece is a portal into Paradise.
S ~ I have watched your film
L ~ You saw it?
S ~ I’ve definitely seen,
what you can build.
L ~ For my characters?
S ~ But I question if you,
can do it with just,
a page and quill.
If you can make,
the kaleidoscope simple.
All that burning intensity,
simmers inside like,
the searing flames,
of humanity.
L ~ Man undergoes a crisis of faith,
When he takes on a work of art,
Things can get strange.
A ~ How so?
L ~ As the world is turning,
its fires in this race ~
The tension builds until,
It can be hard to tell if we are at the gates of heaven or of hell.
A big reflective egg,
with mirrors on each side.
Portraits of life and death,
The vitality of art,
A fury until we rest.
S ~What does it mean for you to be,
to think, to see,
for a man who wrote,
the maps and sent the,
letters to me,
on the storms and,
mirrors seeing the course correcting lands,
uncharted, it seems,
Left buried by the father.
Uncover all the ink,
and sweat of time,
He did appear as you do now.
LF ~ Perhaps,
Perhaps it was when we had,
the courage to follow through.
To fight until our bones too brittle,
carried us to bed.
S ~ To protect,
not let the wears,
of this world beat,
the dripping beads,
of blood and ink,
from our brow.
To keep fighting on,
ones own feet for,
independence my friend,
is ours.
~ LF
Cinematic Poetry by Laurence Fuller
@laurencefuller
www.laurencefuller.art
