The Great Artist, Whether He

Though Men In The Mass Forget The Origins Of Their Need, They Still Bring Wolfhounds Into City Apartments, Where Dog And Man Both Sit Brooding In Wistful Discomfort. The Magic That Gleams An Instant Between Argos And Odysseus Is Both The Recognition Of Diversity And The Need For Affection Across The Illusions Of Form. It Is Nature's Cry To Homeless, Far-wandering, Insatiable Man: "do Not Forget Your Brethren, Nor The Green Wood From Which You Sprang. To Do So Is To Invite Disaster.

Perhaps A Creature Of So Much Ingenuity And Deep Memory Is Almost Bound To Grow Alienated From His World, His Fellows, And The Objects Around Him. He Suffers From A Nostalgia For Which There Is No Remedy Upon Earth Except As It Is To Be Found In The Enlightenment Of The Spirit--some Ability To Have A Perceptive Rather Than An Exploitive Relationship With His Fellow Creatures.

The Journey Is Difficult, Immense. We Will Travel As Far As We Can, But We Cannot In One Lifetime See All That We Would Like To See Or To Learn All That We Hunger To Know.

It Is A Commonplace Of All Religious Thought, Even The Most Primitive, That The Man Seeking Visions And Insight Must Go Apart From His Fellows And Love For A Time In The Wilderness.

Tomorrow Lurks In Us, The Latency To Be All That Was Not Achieved Before.