There are days…
Looking out at the horizon
drawn to
sky
soft pillows
white clouds….
transporting to
highway
giving way to
shaded
peripheral
trees
brushing past…
The smell of mossy dirt, not quite pine,
some part running
water…
conjured through
Closed
Windows.
An arch enclosing…
blurring
deep e m e r a l d into
Rooted
multi dimensional
browns
a dash… of the crisp inside
Of a
walnut… cream
lights
us
in a womb – traveling to…
a delicate place…
the
winding roads
wondering about
this… intensity
of
f e e l in g s
the N e c e s s i t y
To
share them
As if it will bring me closer to the truth…
As if the release will bring peace…
As if
As if
the magic lies
in painting
words for you.
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 