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