Her eyes scan the canvas sky,
weaving a web of dreams,
where gods and goddesses hold court
in the imagination
of mortal contemplation;
where landscapes form
to march their majestic strides
towards the beckoning horizons,
laid out across infinity’s watch.
Here she ambles,
like a clay figurine,
never fired into a static conclusion,
to the sculptural thoughts and feelings
of her heart and mind.
a fluid body of flowing pigments
impress a trail of wondering spirit
upon the sands she touches.
Her eyes scan her inner world,
knitting the jigsaw of self,
where shadows and light dance
to a choreograph of living moments;
where worlds within worlds appear,
to spin their sublime evolutions
to the cryptic codes
inscribed in the tides of her vision.
Here she sits,
wrapped in a mercurial manuscript,
where stories yet to be told
are written between the imprinted lines
with invisible ink,
seeping behind her eyes.
For you “Lisa”: http://www.redbubble.com/people/lisag on your birthday… a dear friend. Much love. xoxo