…and no one seems to be listening.
with how my brain manipulates my reality
I’m a prisoner of shape and colour
like a rat locked in the pantry
hypnotised by how good it tastes
to believe in a world of fakes
God please help me let go
and coax me
to trust in the divine flow
It is really easier to discover the self than to sort out your problems.
Watching my thoughts go by and by, like a work of art constantly evolving in a chaotic structure, to nowhere specifically, with no sense apparently.
I put down the brush and look behind the canvas. And as I look, 100 colours drip from my fingers and colour my soul. They dance. This is the first work of art that I can truly call mine – not a copy of my favourite impressions, but my own visceral creation.