life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Trust”

the sensual colors of poetry 

I like your wide open window soft abandon

your wild free wheelin rambunctiousness

your inexplicable

untamed

a soft new invention

a wilderness

a concoction of sensual indigenous aromas

and I want to hear you sing

your wild buffalo song

my axe wailing some new chord

with the sun on our backs

cool water in our packs

.

I want our hikes to go on for days 

months years

exploring everything wild 

and real

fully contaminated with green forest and wild herbs 

till our blood is so fully and completely inoculated

with chlorophyll and light 

that our dreams become plainly visible 

.

as the light runs from the skies

and the sun dims

we will lie on warm ground 

inventing a new perfume 

under a blanket of whispering stars

🔥

Adam A. DeFranco

I’m in an open relationship

with my heart.

How can I contain my passion for snails?

For otters, milkweed in autumn,

the holes in old socks that live

for decades in a drawer,

stray cats, lonely porcelain

Sleeping Beauty and the Prince

salt and pepper shakers,

coyotes moaning in the wetland,

wayward petals that wander

far from their roses

on rain-swollen breaths of September.

Each creature, I’m afraid,

is my favorite partner.

You, you above all.

I say that to everyone, don’t I?

After love making,

the universe and I just lie here

gazing through our tears.

Who is the sweat-beaded Dancer?

Who is the Witness wearing only

a necklace of stars?

One who burns completely,

leaving neither smoke

nor ashes,

becomes pure.

❤️
Alfred K. LaMotte


Yes, God is mysterious as fog,

but please, don’t give me that stuff

about God playing hard to get.

She is so into you 

I can’t believe you don’t see it.

She’s flagrant about it.

She writes you the steamiest letters

in the colors of sky and leaf, 

in stone and sea and child,

her hands are all over you,

she has moves that—admit it—

make you blush.

He’s in your dreams, 

whispers to you when you aren’t listening.

You think those scriptures are some dry text

but it’s him, fawning all over you,

saying your name.

She wears the most revealing outfits,

struts her stuff, begs for attention.

They’ve always been like that. 

Going on singles cruises,

trolling the skankiest bars in town,

hoping for luck.

She has no shame, no holding back.

I’d take her aside and talk to her

about decorum and such,

but golly, 

I can’t even get in the same room with her

without her climbing all over me. 

She’s yours, mate. 
Yeah, it’s a little wild. Razor’s edge.

I get why you pull back.

But listen.  

Secretly, so in the dark you don’t even know,

it’s your own heart that’s flirting 

with everything that moves.

She’s the one 

who’s holding you quietly, calmly, murmuring,

“Easy. Easy. I’m right here.

You’ve got me. It’s OK.”
______________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


I want to kiss you forever

I want to lay with you

in a tangle of sheets and tongues and crazy, wild hair

with the rain beating against the foggy windowpane

and touch your face 

as our warm 

eyes and souls and bodies 

melt into one

with God

the perfect trifecta 

I want to stay there

forever 

and then another endless, beautiful day

I’ll not ever ask for more

than to love 

and be loved

like this

by you

💋

Amy Lloyd (AL)


You can

die for it–

an idea,

or the world. People
have done so,

brilliantly,

letting

their small bodies be bound
to the stake,

creating

an unforgettable

fury of light. But
this morning,

climbing the familiar hills

in the familiar

fabric of dawn, I thought
of China,

and India

and Europe, and I thought

how the sun
blazes

for everyone just

so joyfully

as it rises
under the lashes

of my own eyes, and I thought

I am so many!

What is my name?
What is the name

of the deep breath I would take

over and over

for all of us? Call it
whatever you want, it is

happiness, it is another one

of the ways to enter

fire.

 ~ Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

Remember: Joy is not a sin; sacrifice is not a virtue. 

         ❤️ Paulo Coelho ❤️

Advertisements

A New Thing  


I am learning a new thing

I am digging deep into my belief systems

My very foundation –

the thing I learned,

the thing I wanted,

from the very beginning. 

The very thing I have based every decision of my life on for 51 years,

has crumbled,

discovered hidden and rotten 

under every good thing I’ve attempted to build. 

I kept wonder why my fabulous additions 

kept falling down around my ears…

now I see the gaping ground fault,

the illusive, sinking sand,

which I must release and repair. 

It’s very difficult. 

It’s extremely frightening. 

It’s supremely challenging. 

My new thing goes against the grain 

of everything I’ve ever thought, 

dreamed,

done…

since my very earliest childhood memories. 

It’s been so very expensive. 

Life built. 

Time spent. 

Dreams bent. 

All washing away

as I open my hands and allow 

a new firm foundation 

to be built

as the levee breaks 

and carries the remaining sinking sand 

forever away…

times…

they are a changing!




Love, like fire, can only reveal its brightness On the failure and beauty of burnt wood.           – Philippe Jaccottet   

Everyone is having a hard time. Everyone is insecure. Everyone is hassled. Everyone is tired–we all need more sleep. Everyone wishes he had more courage, more money, and better social skills. Everyone wants more glamour in his life, and we all desperately need more laughter. Few can figure out how they ended up living the life they lead. Don’t be misled by flippant talk; it’s a battle for everyone.
🔥

– Joshua Halberstam​


the flesh covers the bone  

and they put a mind  

in there and  

sometimes a soul,  

and the women break  

vases against the walls  

and the men drink too  

much  

and nobody finds the  

one  

but keep  

looking  

crawling in and out  

of beds.  

flesh covers  

the bone and the  

flesh searches  

for more than  

flesh.  

 

there’s no chance  

at all:  

we are all trapped  

by a singular  

fate.  

 

nobody ever finds  

the one.  

 

the city dumps fill  

the junkyards fill  

the madhouses fill  

the hospitals fill  

the graveyards fill  

 

nothing else  

fills.

Alone With Everybody by Charles Bukowski


in the world between worlds

where the shimmering abstract

holds all the secrets within us

words are absent

no scripture exists

there are no definitions

as there is no need for such things

in our eternal knowing 

we are ever-being known

the mystic colors of God fill us

unseeable in this earthly realms obscured vision 

they hold us there 

where we don’t need to be understood 

or understand anything

we are simply

all we could ever hope to be

we are the lover and the beloved

eternal love

eternally loved 

complete

You in I

I in you

one

until the scab scraping 

demand of this waking earth

this illusion glazed moment we choose to serve

pulls us completely blinded

into a day in a life

pushes us ass-backward 

into the harsh reality

of jaded time

of hard-earned, hard-learned experience 

of continually disappointed expectation

of broken hearts, once tender

of broken dreams, once beautiful 

broken everything, once whole and healthy

and instead of fighting for our very lives,

we put away our dreaming space,

as if it were somehow the wrong

we decide we’ve learned the truth – 

that love hurts –

though what we’ve learned is trickery –

because true love sets us free

and so we surrender to 

the soul-sucking zombie apocalypse of our addictions,

our chosen favored forms of slavery

as the children of chattel always do

not knowing our vast worth

our royal bloodline

our supreme destiny

we clothe ourselves in useless, flimsy armor 

our only known defense. 

we use fools gold 

cheap drug store variety,

Madison avenue, false-advertisement protection, 

these rabbits feet of proclaimed luck,

these traps of anger, arrogance and pride,

against the barbarian onslaught

of what we have been brainwashed to accept

as important 

the carnivorous eating of our flesh

by the demands of our own complex making

focused only on our foolish collecting of silly objects,

overrated treasures and pleasures 

as we ignore our need for love

choosing instead to battle

the cannibals salivating at every corner

waiting for us to stumble and weaken

so they can take our place at the top of the illusive list 

of whatever sort 

we have entered into 

as our arena of competition  

eventually they will toast to their victories over us 

with our own fresh, falling blood

pouring from the golden goblets we ourselves had taken from another 

we accept it as normal

as we attend to the business of forgetting 

who we are

pretending to be full

as we starve to death

in order to get just a little bit more than those waiting 

for what will never satisfy any of us 

lusting for salt 

even as we faint from dehydration 
we live, lonely, in empty mansions

forgetting all that makes a house glow

is the home light burning inside of our other to warm our bones

in order to impress those who will never truly know us, love us, or want our best to be honored 

in order to arrive at the end of our hourglass 

dragging what we will not be able take with us…
we trade our chance to be truly remarkable

to create singular intimacy

we see our chance to find gardens of happiness,

to build something as mind boggling as the seven wonders,

and we choose to ignore it

as we continue on.

too busy, too consumed,

to stop for a moment,

just one moment,

to take off our shoes,

fall down and worship…

to allow the lover into our heart –

as though love isn’t important enough for the likes of us

why do we go about wasting our opportunity here?

how can we awaken to the highest and best within ourselves?

how can we choose to lay our hearts bare in vulnerability?

how can we empty the deepest motes of fear and isolation?

why do we trade love for ash?

why would we ever do such a thing? 

why?

Let us return again to where we began…

the joyous place of our belonging

to the passion and wild danger inside our freedom loving hearts

children on Christmas morning 

full of sheer wonder and excitement 

at the beauty of who we are 

passionately in love with our created uniqueness

the fullest colors of our self unleashed

living worship eternally under vast blue skies

shining from our highest place, 

with the extreme audacity, 

the sheer wonder and glory

of our calling as love

pure love

I in you

You in I

as we 

the many

become 

the one 

💞

Amy Lloyd (AL)



Many of us seek that which we will flee if we find it. I have seen this time and again, both in myself and in others. We seek, we search, and then we find a calling or a relationship that is a perfect reflection of our yearning and we turn away and go back to seeking, almost as though the light of our true-path was too bright for us, too vulnerable for us, too real for us. This is a pattern that we have to recognize and heal or else we will never stop looking for what is already there. True-path is not always around the next corner. Sometimes it’s right under our feet…

🛤

  Jeff Brown

Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence.

~Erich Fromm

what if? 


Let’s remake the world with words.

Not frivolously, nor

To hide from what we fear,

But with a purpose.

                                Let’s, 

As Wordsworth said, remove

“The dust of custom” so things

Shine again, each object arrayed

In its robe of original light.

And then we’ll see the world

As if for the first time.

As once we gazed at the beloved

Who was gazing at us.

🌎

Untitled [“Let’s remake the world with words”] by Gregory Orr


what if you tried something new?

what if you just threw away the rule book and trusted your gut?

what if you allowed someone in to help you, even for a minute?

what if you stopped defending your territory and absorbed some love?

what if you decided to let unexpeted things be the right timing?

what if you created a world where everybody belonged?

what if it’s really just about finding beauty and allowing beauty to find us?

what if you saw that no one is more valuable than another? 

what if you knew, for sure, you are royal, and so am I?

what if you treated everyone you encounter with that assumption?

what if, every single time you wanted to, you made the phone call?

what if, every time you didn’t want to, you didn’t?

what if you began doing all the things you are dreaming of today?

what if these things simple things are all that truly matters? 

what if the future of the world hangs on this iridescent string wrapped loosely around your wrist?

what if you leave for the next great adventure tomorrow, on this earth, or beyond?

what if you ask yourself these things every morning,

out in that field beyond right and wrong?
🌳

Amy Lloyd (AL)


hanging in this green moment 💚  


From Jen Lemen 💚 sign up for Soul Snacks

💚💚💚💚💚💚😊😊💚💚💚


There was a sentence halfway written.

There was a thumbprint ridged in ink.

There was a crease in sheaved paper.

There was a ring left from the drink.

There was a chair turned, facing outwards.

There was a door hung from its hinge.

There was a drop that wasn’t water.

There was a dog that knew to cringe.

There was tall grass, dazed and listing.

There was dirt sporing the air.

There was a quiet cleft by birdsong.

There was ragged breathing, barely.

There’d been a plan, the traces told it.

There was a shovel in the back.

There were gloves and tape and sibilant teeth.

There were constraints that held them fast.

There was no way they would believe her.

There was no cold hand that made fists.

There’d be floodlit eyes for every move

And no coming back from this.
Sing, stolid choir of objects, eyeless and aghast,

of a world that came to stay.

Add to your claythroat concord what lies in a hole

that took all day.

If an account remains ungiven,

if the seams close sheer and smooth,

if God’s own mind forgets, this time,

a scene will bear the truth. 

🌾

-Matthew Caldwell
Scene – Matthew Caldwell

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven

That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,

And thereupon imagination and heart were driven

So wild that every casual thought of that and this

Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season

With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;

And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,

Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,

Riddled with light. Ah! 

when the ghost begins to quicken,

Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent

Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken

By the injustice of the skies for punishment?

⚡️

The Cold Heaven by W. B. Yeats

Floating here 

some three thousand miles off Portugal

I hang in your green,

breath held, limbs still, 

ears just under water,

feet pointing down into mystery.

The sea in my veins 

is so close to you,

blood of the planet I throb in.

In your silence I feel the crashing 

of waves in my heartbeat,

the wind in and out 

when I come up to breathe.

It may look just barely

but I feel so alive.

You have no ill will

yet I know if I breathe wrong

you will take me. 

This far north your hands are cold, 

your lips are cold.

Still I float in your womb 

and you say

“I will hold you.”

Sitting in my umbilical prayers I hear you.

Mountains and deserts say this, too.

And beside a little white church

on a North Dakota prairie

a plot of ground, 

surrounded by family names,

says as well,

“I will hold you.” 

I hear you. 

I hang here in this green moment. 

__________________ 

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Unfolding Light

http://www.unfoldinglight.net


My heart is green

with the fuzz of springtime growth

borning life again

from the rich, bloody soil

it throbs anew
My mind is blue

as the sky in sunshine

then

like the night full of stars and glittering tears

it diamond sparkles 
My life is orange

as flames in a forest 

fire

breathing the wind 

it grows wild
My love is red

there is no hiding it

passion

real as anything

it woos pilgrims
My touch is gold

hands, lips on wounds

aching

for velvet skin, shared breath

it heals all
My soul is pearl

creamy and warm

welcome

to all who come

it opens hearts
My word is platinum 

I seek only truth

wisdom

life with integrity 

it unlocks doors
My work is emerald

deep as the world

brilliant

full of riches

it creates wealth
My legacy is silver

of the finest made

pure

all about me

all about You

💚

Amy Lloyd (AL)



wicked surprises of the call 


God goes out for whiskey Friday night,

Staggers back Monday morning

Empty-handed, no explanation.
After three nights of not sleeping,

Three nights of listening for

His footsteps, His mules sliding
Deftly under my bed, I stand

At the stove, giving him my back,

Wearing the same tight, tacky dress, same slip,
Same seamed stockings I’d put on before He left.

He leans on the kitchen table, waiting

For me to make him His coffee.  
I watch the water boil,  

Refuse to turn around,

Wonder how to leave Him. 
Woman, He slurs, when have I ever done

What you wanted me to do?

❓❓❓❓

Reason by Robin Coste Lewis


Get off my back, God.

Take your claws out of my shoulder.

I’d like to throw you off

like I would brush off some particularly repellent insect!

Sometimes I get the feeling that if I could turn round

quick enough

I would see you

grinning at me,

full of glee, plotting, scheming, devious, challenging

The hell with all this stuff about fire and storm

and still, quiet waters.

I’ve got your number.

I’ve unmasked you.

I’d like to throw you off

like I would brush off some

particularly repellent insect.

You’re a daemon!

Unfortunately, you seem to have this great attachment

to me.

Actually, being honest, I know in my heart

I’d miss you if you weren’t there,

leering at me, reminding me of
death and dread and destiny,

winding me up and puncturing

my pretensions.

I know, with a sinking feeling in my gut

that all the best of me 

–
the fire and storm, 

and even, now and then, still waters,

are born out of the death-defying struggle

that we wage,

my dearest daemon.

💪🏻

Wresting With God by Kathy Galloway


I didn’t ask for this,

did I?

in fact, I believe I tried to block it, 

avoid it at all costs. 

But here I am feeling 

outta sorts,

facing my bittersweet days. 

Wondering where the hell

this is gonna take me?

What is my purpose here?

here, 

where I lived my experiment for 5 years?

here,

what was taken 

now returns,

and I am not sure what to do with it…

light it up

or 

burn it down?

all I know is this is the place

I have been called to 

at this moment 

for only God knows what,

and He’s not talking,

hasn’t shown his face in weeks. 

I must rely on this silly sliver of a promise,

that it is meant for my good 

– somehow,

someway. 

Any-hoo,

Trust is a ruthless business,

an extreme proposition to live. 

I am not leaning to my own understanding, 

or natural desires,

even a bitty-bit, 

or I definitely wouldn’t be right here

 – right now

or anytime in the future. 

Yet here I am,

standing on this holiest of my profane grounds,

way out in the back forty

of thecomfort zone,

knowing beyond knowing,

I’m in the only place 

I’m supposed to be 

right now.  

This is where the magic happens. 

🌎

Amy Lloyd (AL)


God wants to encounter you with His love, so you can become a light everywhere you go, your life will shout to the world, ‘I’ve seen Him, I’ve felt Him. I’ve heard His voice. He is alive. He is here with us. In us. For us.’



A faith to live by, a self to live with, and a purpose to live for. –Bob Harrington  


When you are loved, you can do anything in creation. 

When you are loved, there’s no need at all to understand what’s happening, because everything happens within you.
 ― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist


Love is not a fluffy thing, it’s got edges and teeth. Love refuses to play small or sell out. 

     – Julia Butterfly Hill



Flock

o love


The Lover said to the Beloved,

“I am in love with You.”

The Beloved replied with laughter

and twinkling eyes,

“You have no choice!”

Who comprehends this conversation?

I love because I have free will.

But when I surrender completely,

the will is annihilated in love,

and this is perfect freedom.

I know this because I became

a fool.

🎉

Alfred K. LaMotte







this…


I always say we learn virtue by practicing not by thinking about it. I have been silently but actively observing the world around me paying attention to the subtle details and nuances of spoken and written words and the behavior and actions or inaction that trail them. Words are as much of a communicator of truths as they are of falsehoods. Time and time again human history has taught us that actions will reveal the essence of our intention. The honest but hard work of virtue lies in action. It acts upon the merits of thoughtfulness, sound judgement based on receptivity, cooperation, observation, broad mindedness and wisdom. It transforms, expands and evolves. Truth does not crown itself king amidst the utterance of words that are used to describe it. It only upholds to its reverence when it is purposefully active as it is so in nature. It differs greatly from the action of falsehood which only acts to benefit itself in a superficial accordance to judgements that are based upon reactionary egotistical self proclaimed righteousness, which is a bizarre tendency of human behavior. It loves to boast its declarations with repetitive renditions of words from a conglomerate array of them barely even scratching the surface of thier true meaning. The depths of truth is far beyond reach for those who proclaim falsehood as Truth. It’s a masquerading of words that don’t align with its corresponding action.
Truth is multilayered, multifaceted and complexed, a sort of breeding ground for simple truths that are free flowing through life right beneath the surface of reality. It is ubiquitous as space. Yet mainstream treads through a dense cloud of a fictional existence constantly trying to figure out the meaning of life and its purpose amid illusions in a perpetual loop.

🔁

 – Lisette Hesmadt


Preach it, teach it…wear it like a robe…

Breathe it, sniff it…take it to the road…

Hold it, form it…release, than sigh…

Belt it out…whisper it ….murmur the sound…

No silence, but stillness…

Find the paradoxes, hold the tension…

Walk the corridors until you miss it…and walk it again…

You are not mystic, nor healer…until your fear is all gone…

Baptize it, drown it…rise from the dead…

Then burn and burn…
Beauty,

Donna Knutson


TO BE READ IN THE INTERROGATIVE
Have you seen

Have you truly seen

the snow 

the stars 

the felt steps of the breeze
Have you touched

really have you touched

the plate 

the bread 

the face of that woman you love

so much
Have you lived

like a blow to the head

the flash 

the gasp 

the fall 

the flight
Have you known

known in every pore of your skin

how your eyes 

your hands 

your sex 

your soft heart
must be thrown away

must be wept away

must be invented all over again

💞

~Julio Cortazar


There is grace on ground like this

(we can say that every step we take

every day we live)

wherever we are is sacred ground

every bush we see burning holy

every rock singing glory 

every bird testament of trust

every tree drips abundance

every flower secure in extravagant love

every waterfall 

every rainbow

and moonbow

and drop of the summer rain

shimmers with promise

rocks standing firm in the faith

glittering in sunshine

we are made of stars

held together with a bit of mud

breathing the breath of the creator

made up of the very same matter as the universe

life / death our greatest gifts

the space between

will be shades of heaven 

or the darkest shades of hell

we choose our path with every decision

free will is our constant companion

choices…always choices 

our most important recognized awareness 

wake up 

guard them well

pay attention 

dance a lot

share the miracles 

strewn all along our way

💞

AL


Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity, and responsibility to give something back by becoming more.

   – Tony Robbins 


Let us go forward quietly, forever making for the light…   Vincent van Gogh 


Let us go forward quietly, forever making for the light, and lifting up our hearts in the knowledge that we are as others are (and that others are as we are), and that it is right to love one another in the best possible way – believing all things, hoping for all things, and enduring all things.…And let us not be too troubled by our weaknesses, for even he who has none, has one weakness, namely that he thinks he has none, and anyone who believes himself to be so perfect or wise would do well to become foolish all over again.

✍🏻

Vincent van Gogh


There is always that edge of doubt.

Trust it, that’s where the new things come from.

If you can’t live with it, get out,

Because when it’s gone, you’re on Automatic,

Repeating something you’ve learned.

Let your prayer be:

Save me from that tempting certainty that

Leads me back from the Edge,

That dark edge where the first light breaks.

The Edge of Doubt by Albert Huffstickler


Thing on my art table…

Chopsticks from Korea House – Jana

Seed from ASG Intensive – Patti

Tea light from Retreat 2012 – Robin

Blue twistie light from Andy n Brandi’s wedding

Paint brushes from Kacie’s old art box 

Small souvenir dish from Italy and a pumpkin Anni gifts

along side Faith-Trumps-Fear dogtag

tiny flower pots that just make me happy

One of Pearl’s rocks with a natural cross 

Big Purple stone from Bernice’s apartment

Inspirational box I bought in Connecticut

Small leather journal part of art supply shopping trip Chris bought me 

Pens, paints, markers, pencils

Books – as many as possible

Journals, Bible, sketch pads 

Tweezers – always tweezers

Computer 

My framed arts-ing

Other things as well

each small thing connected to someone, 

some place. 

I am surrounded by what I love,

Who I love,

What I live.

I keep pieces of myself

of moments, 

the people, I love. 

and I build my days 

with bricks, blocks, shells and sparkly rocks

layers of a life 

built on grace and gratitude

a firm foundation 

which will not be shaken. 

🐚

AL


21 different ways to do art therapy and put your thoughts in order

Posted by The Minds Journal EditoriaL| A Better Living, Interesting, The Journal | 16 |     

Sometimes, the solution to your problem just won’t come into your head, yet your thoughts are spinning at a 100 kilometers an hour, and you feel like your brain is going to explode.

It’s times like this that you could do with trying some ’art therapy’. At its most basic, the only preparation you need to carry out for this is to grab a pencil and a sheet of paper. Then, just start drawing. It doesn’t even matter what you draw. Within a certain amount of time, your thoughts will become more harmonious and you’ll calm down.

To help you get started, here’s what to do if you’re feeling…

* Tired: draw flowers

* Angry: draw lines

* In pain: build a model

* Bored: color in a sheet of paper in various colors

* Sad: paint a rainbow

* Scared: knit something

* Worried: make a doll

* Indignant: tear a piece of paper into small pieces and arrange it into a pattern

* Anxious: do some origami

* Tense: draw patterns

* Nostalgic: draw a maze

* Disappointed: copy a portrait or painting

* In despair: draw your way out

* Confused: draw an Indian mandala

* That you need to restore your strength: make a landscape painting

* That you can’t make sense of your feelings: paint a self-portrait

* That you need to remember this moment: draw some colored patterns

* That you need to put your thoughts in order: draw honeycombs or squares

* That you need to take the time to make the right choice: draw waves and circles

* That you’re stuck in a rut: draw spirals

* That you need to make sense of your most important goal: draw target symbols.

21 different ways to do art therapy and put your thoughts in order


All my feelings have the colors you desire to paint. – Rumi

💥

I feel the blues and greens today

I experiment with running colors together

I love the oranges and yellows

They make me happy

My words are few today

Faith

Love 

Life

Fly

A few more I repeat

I experiment with brushes

I play with squares of paper

These colors are poured out definitely sharing my emotions

I design things in my head

At the end of this day 

I have created something good

for my soul

doesn’t matter how great it is…

I am an artist 

I must create

🌟

AL



photo sources found at pinterest.com

Post Navigation