
Art is the passion of the mind when the thought is of life or death.
Is one a fake if one must ask “What is art?”
A forger of a work of genius is unaware of creative passion.
Who will give it thought
to decipher the phony from the work of skill except those with an ardent mind.
To be counterfeit is to be unknowing of life
and lost to all reflections save for death.
In the brain and in the body, the paint and canvas, breathing death.
One is like a larva to ask, “What is art?”
It is Life!
As a soul of passion
is an inventive mind
and inspired thought.
Certainly, to claim original thought
is to escape death,
for what is an eternity without the validation of the masterwork? In mind,
a desiccated worm on a sizzling sidewalk, the canvas of hell is an imitation of art.
If one is not filled with the maker then one is made empty of passion
and dead; even the maggot can not feed on the corpse of a hollow life.
One is just as one was before one was born, dead to life
but given by God the opportunity of thought,
the young insect, by divine passion
and by God’s command overcomes death,
the caterpillar becomes a butterfly, a hollow cocoon left to decay, all that is and was and will be, Art.
To subsist is to understand the lack of euphemisms and not mind,
yet the phony proclaims, “Air is all that consists of the mind”
and being born one survives to pass away throughout life
and this is true with one exception that carries on beyond the grave, Art!
So rather than exist to fear fatality in thought
rejoice in creation beyond death
that is of God in holy passion.
The canvas of heaven is hot with passion
just as the path to hell scorches the mind
with notions of perpetual creation without art
but in a time without end, death becomes life
when one excepts one’s design as willed by God’s thought
and one’s existence as God’s art.
If in life one’s mind can be in this world as an artist,
and align each imaginative thought with God’s passion
Then one becomes a masterpiece beyond death as sentient and awe-inspiring art.

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