They float, clamour, collide, reach over each other, fold or open, radiate toward light.
A variegated mass of embodied thought. That greening poinsettia from last Solstice, Hanukkah, Christmas on the wooden overhand of the large old oak desk that came from a used furniture store on the other side of the country. Yes, this helps.
Feel what I'm feeling. Though sometimes I don't like what I feel about something and so block it until it drops like a dead leaf.
Or it's stronger than my not liking and I must integrate it into the mass reaching for the light.
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
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Woman with Flowers 7.1
(7th sketch in series, first iteration of this one) Woman with Flowers Flowers, props upholding the woman. The flowers, fragrant, imaginar...
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direct link: Tones of Noir music: Alex Bailey, ' Piano Improvisation No 7 .' Do poems wait to be born? A poem whittled out of t...
I feel kinship with the feeling in this composition, written so poetically well and reaching out as very, very real and existent.
ReplyDeleteThe more I begin to understand the deeper emotions, the more I realize that we must experience shadow as well as Light, for if not, the Light becomes as an artificial thing. Knowing the shadow is present, is working through it...and then to finally experience the healing. What a wondrous thing, to say, yes, there has been healing.
Blessings~