Tempest

Wednesday, 4 April 2007

blue engraving

I play with the feather tip
the hand moves of its own accord
across the page,
the ink weaves its course
it flows with graceful fluidity
and with each stroke a new story unfolds
thoughts disconnected spray on the white
in beautiful blue engraving
contemplations luminous come to life.

Just random strings of words
I grope to make full sentences
not a single strand whole
but but with memories manyfold
Across time they travel
only to be beaten by the ink blue
and put down on this page long due.
Of past victories and future failures
of trials of blazing glory and damning defeats

for every swift stroke of the feather
a new understanding blooms
the blue shimmers enlightenment
as penned words endow wisdom
carvings random they soothe
many a tempests of despair
it flows out amorphous
like a river trailing down a mountain side
like magic the calm flows
from finger tips to temple.

In glorious surrender embraces an artist
the exaltation infused into his veins
from the feather tip that words rains
watching the world a blue
from a window isolate
lost in the hues of colours he weaves
forgotten is the world, only his thoughts he seives.
he lives within my story
I watch him smile at me through the window on my white
With ink blue I create his world, his life
In beautiful blue engraving
contemplations luminous come to life

Posted by Pavitra :: 13:49 :: 6 comments