Beauty is to be seen whenever the eyes are open
For art seems the province of God and man
Creation is filled with color and balance
It seems sometimes that even the wildlife dances
Nature is filled with the cycle of life and death
Old life feeding new life
From a distance, beauty beyond imagination
Up close, the decay seems overpowering
A garden is filled with the same cycle
Man tending, and hiding the decay
A place of rest and recreation
Bringing hope as the garden fills with food
The eyes see the canvas filled with paint
Landscapes, portraits, still-lifes.
An artist holds a brush, the brush dances
The heart sees beauty from so many sources
Is Van Gohg myopic?
Do we understand the tricks played on our own eyes?
Did Seuart anticipate modern printing?
At what point do the dots begin to blend together?
Sometimes things appear revolting at a distance
Yet there is a perfection when viewed up close
Consider the fly’s eye
Magnification moves from disgust to wonder
The eyes see beauty whenever they are open
Art is wherever we find it