yesterday
was a different kind of conversation
with petals flying and thunder booming
in the end, a soft a rain fell
against the night
*
this morning
songbirds are warbling
the ancient trees are still and plaintive
a jay screeches a call to action
as the sky stretches
*
tomorrow
is not here yet
sometimes, when i am most despondent when i feel i have betrayed or been betrayed too many times to count (or handle)– just then when i doubt myself my wisdom my power my grace (my existence)– right then wings aflutter an angel comes (in myriad forms) bringing a reflection of my wholeness my beauty my…
The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance. -Aristotle I believe this is true for everything in life; I believe every moment is an act of creation with an infinite number of possible outcomes depending on the choices we make. When I create a piece of…