Said the Canvas to the Artist...

said the canvas to the artist:
"sometimes, I wish
you'd just pick up
that resting brush
and stroke me
with your lingering eyes
and uncertain hands,
splashing colours
across my bosom;
isn't the emptiness
that you see,
inspiration enough?
to feel and create
depths in surfaces
longing to be met
in quiet serendipity?

Inspiration

in the silver trail
of cursive thoughts,
left behind by a snail
inching along,
in no hurry as yet
to catch up with life;
in the silent exchange
of unspoken words,
where 'being-ness'
is the prized piece
of sustenance
carried by oft-busy ants;
in the uncertain promise
of survival and celebration,
sealed by the marathon flight
of a mother who doesn't flinch
to leave her chick
in the frozen wilderness;
in the quiet fragrance
of a still wildflower
who draws unto her
vagrant hearts,
blind to their own
quintessence;
in these fractals
that drive life to its hilt,
Inspiration,
she explodes
from within.

Inspiration

catching
the light and dark
of a shimmering twilight
and a hopeful dawn,
sits Inspiration -
on the brink
of time and space;
looking into the now -
this moment, and
infusing it
with all of herself,
welcoming
the stirrings
of an ever-changing sky,
broken open
in a joyous cloudburst
of a constant renewal.

Inspiration

Inspiration -
she kisses me,
moves,
and
lifts me.

a kite
set free
upon
the breath
of the wind

dancing
with abandon,
soaring
towards
unknown shores...

Inspiration is
a fullness,
a love
for all of life.
Unstoppable.

Cutting Cabbage

I used to struggle
for a long time,
with cutting cabbage.

The knife,
the position,
the rhythm,
the space
between cuts,
was just not right.

Until
I figured
the best way -
to go with the flow;
learning
to hold myself
and the other,
and the space between,
until I finally got it right!

Life is like cutting cabbage.