It really feels like the end of days still the sun is shining. My modest 401k has gone away even as the snow turns back to ground. Finance and health aside the stretching days are filled with light. Thankful this didn’t happen in the darkened depths of Fall.
It’s a strange kind of prophecy, crying in the parking lot. Not sure you were a genius knowing it all ends in pain. You held my wreck-less station. I’m still standing in the shadows, waiting in the rain.
Healing wounds through obliteration. The erosion of every living thing. Document and memorialize, the void is gaping thee.
Through the Pane
I don’t like to plan, so much to do. Grand aspirations only seem to disappoint. The tedious artistic attitude, dissatisfied with work. I appreciate the positives regardless of the height. Nothing competes with the feeling of creation. Something new and alive, glimpsed through the pane.
Remembering to be Grateful
It was too early to be awake.
I reached for the phone, 3:00 AM. The terrible dead-zone of night.
Something I must remember. Was it important or maybe a secret? Perhaps just a bill I had forgotten to pay. It’ll come to me if I can just get back to sleep, I’m sure it will.
What I know
I don’t have anymore answers. I ran out of questions long before. A simple hesitation turns to a silent moment. Another breath of air exhaled slow.
Darkness lurks along the edge. The brightest day may bloom from night. Left on a forgotten road it always finds the way.
I paint a dark picture. Seeking light I have known. The palette has shifted.
For me inspiration is happiness, much desired but elusive. It is the fuel that powers motivation and makes for possibilities.
I force myself to start on a new work, make that first mark. If I surrender doubt, I get lost in the process of painting. Creativity is an adventure that generates its own form of inspiration.
In my life I have felt like a negative soul. Still it seems the act of creation is an act of optimism.
In 4th grade the cutest little girl used to ride on our bus. I tried to sit near her as we all did, she was the sun. She laughed, entertained and generally brightened each day. One winter morning she looked into my eyes and said, “You are like a very sad old man.” My heart collapsed even as other children erupted in laughter.
Those words haunted me across the years. I have tried to be upbeat and find my own laughter. In the end the cute little prophet had it right.