“The painter’s brush consumes the dream.

The pained dream consumes itself.”
(quote by W.B.Yeats, “Two Songs from a Play”)

 

He is not a star for you to follow.
He is just a man walking away down the road,
the one who took the fire with him.
No. He is a son of God, a vast conception of self.
He is a wisp of air, a greatness of imagination.
He is true to his dream and will honour it forever.
There is a greatness to his style and gestures.
His arms reach out before him, to hold his dream again.
In that brief moment, he is crowned with stars
and lives in eternity’s sunrise.

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