We worship in the actions of stars.
Transforming one thing into another,
An alchemical marriage.
Hieros gameos, turning silver to gold for the Philosopher’s Stone,
granting immortality.
Magic as a verb means to move, change and create.
Actors become possessed.
Writers incant.
Musicians possess.
Visual artists enchant.
True stars burn so brightly they stain the sky, their talent imprinting our souls.
They are our philosophers stones.
Taking us away, guiding us home, breathing life into us.
And suddenly the prospect of a new day is made bearable.
Art has been this way since the paintings of Lascaux.
Art will be this way to us always.
And THAT is why artists are revered as demigods.
They turn our chaos into something beautiful.
Can you name forms of visual art? It’s such an umbrella.
Via: Poetry Rise
