Poetry: Faustus in his Study

I like art museums, so call me a nerd. You wouldn’t be the first.

It started in Boston, like several of my hobbies, as an assignment to visit the MFA. While the art students sketched in their journals, I wrote. I lament, in this shut-down world, the ability to go to an art museum, to be in the presence of an original, to stare and study and consider every movement in it. And, of course, the story of it.

I came across this poem, written many years ago while at an art museum viewing Rembrandt’s Faustus in His Study, in my journal. Read it. Then comment:
a) What I could improve/what you like
b) Where you most miss visiting (or maybe not most miss just miss — no judgments)

Faustus in His Study

Faustus, Faustus
Glowing grandly
Spreading soundly
Your own dark light
Watching, waiting,

Waxing impatient
By your soul’s own
Grand Delight.
Faustus, Faustus
Staring starkly
As the magic disk revolves
Never noting
Naught before thee

But your own design to grow.
Pride, Impatience
Desire for Greatness
You’ve wound yourself into
The disk that flows.
Spinning, it’s spun you
Woven, it’s won you
To its delights to keep you
Alone, you are
Alone, you aren’t.
You are man
Caught among men
Guided by the same sin.

Get the print by Rembrandt.
Read my favorite Faustus, Dr. Faustus by Christopher Marlowe.