thoughts take me back to a time when the world glowed with beauty...Sketchbook in hand all was a picture to be captured, a painting waiting birth
Trees with bark so filled with grace and stories of life's trek wanting telling thru pencil and ink, watercolor and oil
light danced thru shadows and glistening highlights that blinded with delight
the artist's love and passion as hand, eye raced in glory to capture the blessed moment.
Tis harder to live then to die.
As the tides moved out leaving gasping sea life on virgin land.
tornadoes rip and shred the delicate strong ancient wonders, ancient monoliths now broken and splintered, strewn over grass fields waltzing to the cacophonous orchestrations.
ticking, never ending ticking like breathing paused,
where? where is the sun? vision blinded,passion killed
Tis harder as time ticks bye
light, shadows grow long..hope a baptisted vision promised long ago
Divinity a line in a book quoted, a light to guide-somewhere
where,when...hope? time is testing the artist within.
in silent hope.. somewhere, in that deafening silence.. somewhere...please