when im broken
torn
with
all my conceit
neatly
shorn
perhaps
then he’ll know
the hopes stifled
muted
hushed shushed
though still
as still as innocence
reborn
when im broken
torn
with
all my conceit
neatly
shorn
perhaps
then he’ll know
the hopes stifled
muted
hushed shushed
though still
as still as innocence
reborn
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.
Sprinkling kisses,
on dusty lips,
as,
knots of desire,
twist beneath the veneer.
A yearning heart,
dipped in a blazing cauldron,
knows not,
the coolness of the dew,
settling on the dawn petals,
lonesome as a solitary tear.
Cast away, floating,
adrift on the waters of fate,
I catch,
at last,
a glimpse of love.
Fleeting, impermanent,
yet,
poised to take flight,
to soar,
into the great blue sky,
while alone,
again,
I feel the tugging need,
of surrendering to the ocean,
and,
embracing the unknown,
in a slow dance.
A tango with truth, and with unshackled love,
as the dice rolls,
with the intoxicating promise,
of,
that final chance