My place of expression from all types of visual art, to dance, to poetry and creative writing. It's my creative baby.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Look to center of our mother,
plastic chokes the life of nature.
plant me some imperfect flowers.
ones to nourish bees and laughter.
enjoy colours, scent thereafter.
sun's sweet kiss and children's patter.
grass through toes, safe lovely nurture.
capture it, feed child's vague future.
I am because I speak, and think, and live and create. I question everything, and accept no answers. There is no one true answer to any one question, because our brains are too small and fragile to fully understand. I dream and imagine and I do not judge. Beauty is in vulnerability, so I think I'll live openly and on the brink of tears.