The cradle of quintessential
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I need change.
The kind that will slice the past from the future.
The one that throws the stale to the wolves giving them a chance to feast on old despair, new pain.
That erases the awkwardness of unwanted strokes & colours in an uninspired moment on canvas.
The change that brings spring to one’s step, washes dust accumulated over a lifetime, gives a breath of life to depleted lungs tired of screaming frustration.
A new beginning.
A leaf untouched…
Thick enough to hold the weight of gold, music, streams of clear pure me, of light happiness, of life in every second, in every drop reflecting the warmth & invitation of sunlight, the growth of tiny shoots…
Of essence.
I need not escape realities of life but nudity of meaning, void spreading its wings demanding more space.
I need change now, not a price dangling in front of a screaming soul.
If the world can make changes nobody wants, I can make changes I aspire to for a decade.
But how does one move a continual existence among concrete to the cradle of quintessential, the pacifying arms of space, growth & tranquillity without the means to grasp that suspended dream?
I shout not of despondency but whisper the conveyance of promise, the strategy of hope.
I feed not the fond illusion of a fool’s paradise…
A few questions in wait of disclosure & the walls will come tumbling down…
A few more steps in that direction escorted by diligence & the carrot will be in my mouth!
ArtPoetry&Literature 