Becoming The Muse

Painting Pixels

I feel like the ancient artist,
Fussing over a canvas with a palette and brushes
Whilst everyone else takes out phones and snaps HD photos.
A flash,
A swipe,
An instant digital collage,
While I still scrape the pigment from the walls.
They want the instant export of the soul,
The lossless video,
The polished feed.
But tis not the high resolution that I need,
What keeps me here is the reflection,
The mirror scrambling to find a form.
Each post a shingle nailed against the wind,
A draft of who I am and hope to be,
Where every clumsy sentence,
Becomes the only map that leads to me.