a lost art, a forgotten art, at least to me, i have become too engrossed in moving pictures, in someone else's mind's eye, i gave myself over to someone else's vision, to someone else's sight, to their canvas, their picture, their painting, and forgotten mine own, and what happens when words are the tools, the paints, the sets, and characters come alive, not on celluloid, or recreated as digitial bits interpreted by a laser, by my own imagination, and i thought i had lost it, the mind's canvas, not lost it, but forgotten, atrophied, disused, i didn't think i could return to it, but i could, and now angels and angelica, songs and more return to my eyes turned inside my head, ArchAngel by Sharon Shinn