Monday, December 1, 2014

"If You Kiss Her Mind, Her Body Will Follow." ~Williams

I just started a painting.
In my dream
it
was
one of
the most romantic
things
I
have ever dreamt.
 
My body is showing my sadness, my paint brush knows what to do, and yet, I feel  a loss, so deep, that I did not see coming,
that I feel in mourning.
I sigh.
I toss and turn.
My eyes want to carry a morning mist in them.
There is an old Irish saying,
"A sunbeam to warm you,
A moonbeam to charm you,
A sheltering so nothing can harm you."
This painting I have started is supposed to represent this, yet, I am without words.
A moon will not shine without the sun.
Picture it.
Picture it.
Say you are a moon.
A Moon Child.
A Moon Queen.
A light, words, streaming,
they
help you shine so bright
in the darkest of nights
is
suddenly eclipsed
by
a sphere
out of its orbit.
A bright gypsy moon loves a true night.
It is then,
 with sun and stars,
she is filled with such
light.
Having done nothing wrong,
Having just been a moon feeling a sunbeam,
there is a loss
tearing at my seams.
Here is a poem that I thought would make things right in my heart, in this new, strange, seemingly endless, night...
"The Fairy Poet takes a sheet of moonbeam, silver white; his ink is dew from daisies sweet, his pen a point of light."
~Joyce Kilmer
I am surprised at the losses I have not earned.
 
 

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