things I am often now aware I am feeling experiencing on the skin level

rise to tell stories in the paint at the end of my brush

great strokes of truth rise and become

where something previously was nothing

I have felt this for decades

the becoming of soul across the expanse of white space

I may one day not pick up a brush

leave it lie for the next

this day when it comes will have told it’s story to the extent

I will go on to become the fulness of those colors

this one life allows