Art Exists

I woke up in the middle of the night with this poem forming in my mind, so got up and let it happen. I have no idea what prompted it - maybe a dream.


Art exists
as in that thinnest ribbon
between the sand
and the sea;
that point of constant flux
twixt ebb and flow,
foam laced
or rivulet,
catch as can catch,
one second here
the next begone.
Too often the pundit
feels need to explain
but alas
has already missed
the moment
for the want of
his own existence.
Art requires nothing of you
other than the
need to be
that you might see
and enjoy,
that you might feel
and be changed by it.
Absorb it!
Love it or hate it!
But feel it!
Art Exists!