art breathes hope…

brusthrokes,
flourishes on canvas,

smells,
tasting a palette of oils,

perhaps echoes of earthy hues,

dusty charcoal,

leaving stains that don’t run,

while while the while …

savouring the warmth,
from a faraway sun,

that,
softens fingertips,

caresses hues,

sheds crimson tears,

falling,
like rainbows swirling,

greys on haggard parchment,

while while the while …

the artist feels hopelessness recede,

breathing in a peace,
a stillness,

within,

alive!

alive with hope,

as time retreats,
its swagger lost,

while while the while …

art and artist,
remain,

eternally clasped,
healing a shared pain,

wrapped in the warmth of each unit of time,

offering hope,

to still,

still,

dream of travels along teasing trails of sugarey stars,

just out of reach,

slipping through entwined fingers,

above us all,

in our shared common sky,

as artist and art,
embrace,

become one,

in the eternal second,

whispering away tears,

with hope dispelling,

all doubt,

all fears.

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