To the future, the artist can tell where the present will go. For the present, the artist can see that the past shall shape his wisdom, so that the future holds clarity. For to what the artist can create, there is always a distance from Creation, to futurist scenery. Though, it cannot be that an artist will foretell the future, when the present is never obeying his command. A command, directed upon only the present, will move Creation to the future.
To love, makes the artist someone who shall raise. Raising what has been created, as a Creation, is the essence of support. For what the artist raises, shows he is responsible. An artist supports, by way of the past, for the present to step forward into the future. Love is the expression that the artist shows to his Creation, and in his support, what is raised, is never neglected. For among all love, there is the raising of things vulnerable, or things beautiful. In what the artist views as beautiful, is what all artists view to be beautiful. Alone, and afraid to make the journey, without guidance; and soon, Creation reveals the artist’s design for how it has been structured.
Reinforced, and never remade; protected, and never changed; adored, and never to abhor, is the ideal notion of artist to Creation. Of mother to child, it is the same. Love beats the heart, out of excitement, and never fear, to see what shall become of this Creation. Love makes the soul yearn. For it is the development of both who we are, and what we attach ourselves to, that to its loss, we lose ourselves. We lose our development, being what each human yearns for. It is out of knowledge that to be lost in the present, is to be stagnant without love.
All mothers, among all artists, treasure their attachments, for they are never material. In not ever being material, they are never viewed as disposable.
Love drives Creation, out of realization that to create, merely means to perhaps benefit the vulnerable form. For as the artist makes, they make themselves. They understand themselves, as they fortify themselves. They unmask themselves, showing truth to the world that would be otherwise kept hidden. The artist will, though should not, deny themselves as not alone in the world of others alike. Their loneliness in personal comprehension can shut themselves to isolation, which is the realm of the artist. They discover vulnerabilities, within, that without space, would be kept locked away.
Love always burns those images into view. We are meant to create, not for the gain of it, though for the gift of it. Therefore, the artist who beholds the Creation as his own property, is indeed selfish. His love to the message of statement, of appearance over doing good, makes him arrogant. The making of statements, in sheer intake. In doing good, we inevitably sacrifice materialism.
Love fells rays upon what cannot be seen, over what is deemed as invisible. Thus, the artist connects with another of his kind, making true understanding between Creators.
We cannot be in love with ourselves, without meaning we are in lust with ourselves. The artist who creates, is one who gifts. Though, in their desire to say it is only they who can comprehend the Creation they have made, such are inevitable words. For who else, whose confusion to life has made them an artist, would not offer themselves the personal satisfaction of that revelation? Revelation awaits all who hunger for a store of knowledge, even if it comes from somewhere within the artist, themselves. Their modesty is their subtlety. When they wish to understand their own thoughts, they become lustful in their newfound path to acknowledge and accept themselves.
To be on the path towards a future, not merely within the space of the present, there is meant to be knowledge of the past. Knowledge of former mistakes, not ever received by the artist with blindness. How else, in this scenario, does an artist create? How else, if not to make sense of confusion that originates from the past? Of answers to unasked questions, definitions to undefined understandings, as they become the torments we face in our sleep. All realities are unperceived nightmares. They are faced in the dark, for we do not attempt to dissect them, in daylight.
On the way to Creation, an artist makes of the dark, being things they do not understand, as their present. For to be in the present, is to be lustful. Though, to steer such a present towards the future, is to be loving. Love moves the emotions, the mind, and stabilizes all things that would be dust, without it. To Creation, all artists command what can, and should, face their Creator’s direction.
Guidance, among principle, ignores choice, and does not heed to materialistic freedom. Love loses its light, whenever we cannot remember. To remember what? It is only to remember what originated the love, or simply originated. We were not here, first. As both our mother and our father survived enough to put us upon earth, we can be grateful enough they thought themselves to lack a choice. In raising us, that is, for to the artist, raising the Creation involves no freedom upon the self.
To the Creation, love guides it. To love, there is not restraining control, though only the mind that leads the vulnerable form. As it is, no artist should see the form, the shape, the physical essence as what needs to be free. We free the mind, as such is the only representation of this freedom.
Survival befits the guide, who controls what is led, towards the future deemed as uncertain in the eyes of the Creation. For were the Creation to create, they’d sure recall what their Creator told unto them. That, to create merely means to continue what shall survive. Artists create, because what exists of things no one, not even the artist, comprehends, there is darkness. From darkness, comes the light of Creation. From Creation, comes other Creations, begun to its development by its father, born into the world by its mother.
Love cannot deny life, for the artist will expression the rawness to that emotion, by way of knowing pain. To empathize, means to understand the woes of a Creation’s experience. We love, out of knowledge that the Creation can be hurt. We then protect, out of knowledge that our own instincts lead the hurt towards mending. We carry in our arms, the wounded of their forms, to be healed and then sent for another test.
Why is God called Father? To begin, and nothing more. A beginning is to life, and all else related to such Creation. What has been created, was not out of choice, though out of love. If what is created is born out of lust, then it is in the crime for selfish gain, to rob what can be used. To reap a benefit, merely means to manipulate the life, never to love it. As love is useless, it is then the emotion that purely and strictly defines the forward motion to being developed. We love, because we can, as there is no other reason. There never is a reason to love. There never is an excuse. We either love, or we do not.
For to manipulate would mean to deceive, and if any artist deceives a Creation, they would not be like God. They’d be like Satan, offering a choice outside the realm of love. In offering a choice, there is desired power over one’s own form, over how one could define themselves. Without love, we are merely the choosers to a different destiny.
In not heeding the artist, Creation rebels. In being deaf, Creation throws its ears to mass noise, instead of mass silence. In silence, we pray. In silence, we weep. In desperation, we are merely meant to be silent, so we know the artist can listen for the one who can show gratitude.
Creation is a test, and a lesson, for other Creation. Love will lose its light, when Creation cannot heed what created it. When we suffocate, we do so by how we suffocate love. Where and when had been conceived, is defined by the who in such a scenario. Who was trusted by the woman, enough to reveal her wounds? Then, her scars that were committed by former men; who accepts them? A man, or a soon-to-be father, is meant to comprehend what he does, as himself. His beginning is her ending. His Alpha is her Omega.
Beginning of life. To next, the ending of life. All is the artist’s path to their Creation, making of who is loved the developed person who had never faltered. Due to their support, they never stunted in growth, metaphysically so. Of their mind, they were free, and of their forms, they were sacrificial.
To lead on the Creation to the future, can only be in the realization that who had created the artist, was also a Creator. Love is the reason to be pushed. Onward, towards the future where one can further making something of greater light. To be beautiful, is to be vulnerable. To be loved, is to have those vulnerabilities overseen, and thus, understood. Cracks to flesh, makes the vulnerability known of what is beneath.
Who had created the artist, being also a Creator, is they who had loved, and had taught guidance to the current generation. Of individuals who last, it was only due to who allowed them to live, that they can understand the meaning of responsibility.
Love is the only emotion that compiles all others. In the artist’s belief that no one besides him could create their work, they would be right. To the Creation, the artist comprehends all they know of themselves, to form what is created into shape. The artist shapes Creation, through the use of knowledge. For to know, merely means to understand how to move. Thus, the artist understands how to make move the Creation. To move it into shape, that is, is the artist’s goal. For as all people, and even among animals, are artists, then it is to the inevitable understandings of movement, that pushes Creation to the future.
The artist creates, to diversify the world in terms of separate ideas. Ideas that can blend, though will always form a one. Though, to idea that compete, there is still to be a one for whichever emerges victorious. A oneness, is always a Creation blended from a multiple. Creation is that which is formed, by the artist, out of separated understandings. These are understandings that come from the artist, of themselves, and of what the artist understands of others. It cannot be what the artist assumes of others, for such is merely the naivety of what cannot be understood between individual Creators. A Creator is a oneness, formed of themselves to the limitless height of the developed. All that is developed, is limitless, though only in what the Creator creates. It is not in development that we gain, though only for what we can gift. In development, there is never limitlessness in pieces, or division by way of what has been fractured of Creation. It is always Creation for the sake of the next.
All artists blend the idea to the next, especially by way of the Creation heeding what the Creator has taught them. To understand the words of the Creator, means to understand truth. To understand truth, means to obey it. For as knowledge is passed, then it is truth that becomes passed, in the sheer name of trust. We trust what is not deceptive, being not of appearance. We cannot claim to trust what we see, because a focus on appearance becomes always the blindness to action. Such focus on appearance, turns corruption covert. For if we focus on appearance, we are blind to the acts of those who are evil. As they tell us to see appearance, we become deceived. All is tempting of the appearance, for it is a distraction, and nothing more.
To the strict focus of appearance, is to never wish for sight upon the act of the person. To want a Creator, or even God, to show themselves, is to want to be deceived. For to trust, is meant to never see a face, though only the actions that would prove the face necessary to be revealed. Why would anyone ask for the face of God, without in comprehension that by way of love, action must be foremost so a face is recognized?
It is always that we do not prove through appearance, as that would relate to deception. Were “proof” to hold meaning in sheer appearance, we’d be deceived. It would be unlike requesting proof of someone’s care, not their negligence, through their acts. Whomever neglects us, in this world, never acted for us. Therefore, why would they need to make an appearance? Though, to wonder solely on why God never shows His appearance, is to question the reason why the abandoned street orphan never has anyone to simply appear, in their own sight. For appearance is nothing, if not the greatest deception to those who expect action. To simply appear before the child, to simply proclaim one is their caregiver, though to see in full view the child’s apparent negligence, is to experience deception.
Action proves, as appearance does not. Existence relies on the realization that one is alive, not that an understood Creator would be a true thing.
No love can simply be an appearance. The artist creates, so that the Creation can remember the actions of care that its Creator implemented. We have no mind without love, as have no motivation for existence without its heart. We would stagnate ourselves in our own wounds, as they never mended. For as we fracture, love heals. Love is the healing that does not shatter, until the mind is broken. Though, when the body is broken, love comes to seal the wounds, protecting all that is vulnerable.
Modern Romanticism 