I seek genius
I chase it, glimpsing its tail just around each corner
Staring it down, trying to capture the shine in its eye through the lens
Singing to the rhythmic beating of its wings
I feel its gargantuan presence rumble towards me
Hi Fi Fo-ing the tune which must swiftly be put to paper lest march on vehemently to its next avatar
Laying the traps of paint and oil for it to glop itself to; thrashing in anguish
Throwing my net of syntactically arranged words
And ambushing it with my perfect pirouette
Jumping in triumph at its recognition, seeking society’s validation of my hunting method
I search from the farthest lengths to the never ending widths
Hoping that I am able to even for an instant capture its fleeting beauty
Which schizophrenically wants nothing more than to be seen and yet in its heart of hearts wishes to never be experienced
But I fear the day it slips down that storm drain, for the last time washing away my graffito
The day it laughs and dances out of my grasp and never twirls back
The day it shocks me awake with the blare of its trumpet but is then forever muted
I fear the day it guides my hand to write the words “The End”
For you see the genius which I have sought for so long has become my identity
It has embodied that quill which floods this flattened wood with my emotion
And has become the bow that floods my instrument with vibration
When it has finally slithered to safety away from my art
Will I be content to bask in my accomplishments?
Or
Will I seek a new genius?