Nutshell murmur

Occasionally,

I am left without words. That is – hundreds of them swirl inside me,
connect and reconnect themselves to sentences and inner events that will never be born into this world.
But on a surface I call my day – not a single word, nor a fractioned sentence
Can profoundly describe this chattering silence.
I withdraw to painting. Back in my studio, on small pieces of paper, I take notes.
Painterly expressed thoughts of memories, shapes, light and composition.
Rapidly I present a concentrated understanding,
as I grant it with a two dimensional life:
I think of water
Falling dangerously
Or softly meandering across sandy shores
I contemplate the green
How it darkens in the face of approaching storm
Then I remember the clouds,
As seen from above, under the light of the setting sun.
Below words, a nutshell murmur boat is tossed in an ancient ocean
that only I can hear.
I sing to myself as I do all this
And I am
Truly
Happy.
6EA69110-5A5D-4225-B14B-6287F1A5C80DAB253ADF-0BC3-48EE-943A-39776A0035819540A9FF-23A3-4E1E-81B3-0739B535DFB0AAE79463-BF58-47F4-9B1D-ADF20AB4050CF6C5DE1A-9C71-45E1-8AD7-005BF8E3C482
FDEE8ABD-F0E7-4157-9709-F6DA1437CD6F
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s