For ages i haven't picked up a brush,
nor held the palette in my hand.
Now I just spend hours watching
the colors of the sky, the sea and the rains.
I read their language, store the images.
It's the archetypal language of memory.
A lake deep in the shadows,
the haven of geese,
is an exquisite blending of green and blue
where the grey is subdued
as if in delight.
Yellow is the colour of sunshine summer,
a blending of blue and yellow,
with just a dot of red to relieve monotony and the tyranny of green.
Moonlit nights are the marvels of purple and mauve,
hiding in mystical absence
the presence of the departing red and blue.
Colours have sounds and sounds colours,
an intermingling of senses for human birth.
Shadows breathe and vibrate colours,
ripples a rhythm, and the opaque sand will hum in the dark.
Wings have a tremor when they flap, a nervousness not known to bees.
We are born with a rich ancestry,
eternity glancing at each of its shadows.
And through each shadow emerges
a tapestry, a tapestry of heaven,
each sunset, moonrise and the ripple in a shadow, hides an intimacy of a deep surprise
of finding it all in the tapestry: a stitch, a hemming, a weave and a fold, all in place and a place for all.
,
nor held the palette in my hand.
Now I just spend hours watching
the colors of the sky, the sea and the rains.
I read their language, store the images.
It's the archetypal language of memory.
A lake deep in the shadows,
the haven of geese,
is an exquisite blending of green and blue
where the grey is subdued
as if in delight.
Yellow is the colour of sunshine summer,
a blending of blue and yellow,
with just a dot of red to relieve monotony and the tyranny of green.
Moonlit nights are the marvels of purple and mauve,
hiding in mystical absence
the presence of the departing red and blue.
Colours have sounds and sounds colours,
an intermingling of senses for human birth.
Shadows breathe and vibrate colours,
ripples a rhythm, and the opaque sand will hum in the dark.
Wings have a tremor when they flap, a nervousness not known to bees.
We are born with a rich ancestry,
eternity glancing at each of its shadows.
And through each shadow emerges
a tapestry, a tapestry of heaven,
each sunset, moonrise and the ripple in a shadow, hides an intimacy of a deep surprise
of finding it all in the tapestry: a stitch, a hemming, a weave and a fold, all in place and a place for all.
,
Each time I think your writing, your thoughts, your feeling cannot become any more beautiful... you surprise me. Absolutely superb... what you said here. To be able to verbalize that kind of beauty, sharing the way you perceive the world and all that's in it... well to me, it's mind boggling. You really weren't kidding about the importance of adjectives and metaphors. You are right up there with the best I've ever read... and I've read and admired so much. It's an honor to be able to witness your thoughts in the special way you share them with us all.
ReplyDeleteThank you Anna, your generosity and warmth are overwhelming.
ReplyDeleteHugs my dear friend. Stay blessed in life in every way. I can see that you have it in you to make life meaningful and good whatever the conditions may be.