C o n t e m p l a t i v e Sincerity

Tangible items, physical memories, things like these are nothing.  Clouded memories, vague images of times mostly forgotten, these are everything. 

           deeper so. 

At long, long last, the night, quietly passing, spread out far,  is drug across the sky. Some shadows die and some are born, as  light twists and turns, tailored for transformation,  White overcomes gold,  and grace over grandeur.  I feel solitude as softness and  experience dreams as reality. The mystery of an image,  of a thought, independent. Like a reverie that lasts less and less.  A practice is needed, a system to preserve, a place to keep memories safe. Remember and revive,  replenish and relive.  As the water falls, look into the pool.   

I can feel the wind and flames at the nape of my neck.

freehand; pencil, sharpie, crayon

a ship I’ll sink with no prevail.

I thrust myself to the future and all the sight it sees. 

The lines are helping to tie me down to the ground. https://www.instagram.com/p/BqFjKAnlQHD/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=aa4xxs8sl9ci