Children Of Antarctica

Children of Antarctica

Many people say they think that children are born into this world a blank canvas
A masterpiece in the works. . .
And they say that the tragedy of our world
Is that we don’t allow them to fully create their own image

I tend to think the opposite is true
Each child is born into this world already a complete work of art
Perfect in infancy
An archetypal image in flesh and blood

And from that moment on
The perfection is slowly eroded
By those who have also lost their own way
This is of course, to a degree, everyone we meet

The paint is thinned

The canvas is gouged

The whole composition of life is changed
Wiped clean

I have known people whose hearts still portray and project the beauty of their original work of art. They can’t see it. . . don’t honor it. . . can’t access it.
But it IS there
It offers hope

Some think they are creating their art from the inside out
But we are, at best, actually working it through from the outside back in
Trying to get back what once was
Or unaware of what was once inside at all

And, ultimately, if there is no awareness, we will begin to do the same to others

We don’t see that our work of art is distorted
Ruined beyond recognition by too many hands
Or just one

Children Of Antarctica

Nicolas  Hall

Portland, United States

  • Artist
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Artwork Comments

  • Carrie Jackson
  • Nicolas  Hall
  • Carrie Jackson
  • Rella
  • PJ Ryan
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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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