We make art with the life we’re given
like wild roses growing beside the sea,
finding purchase in the thin layer
of consciousness, not primitive
nor the mindless off and on machine
but green and reaching
into the cloud filled sky
with roots that search through layers,
turning light and air into music,
water and earth into song,
the poetry of sentience
speaking into the dark night
the freedom we yet imagine.
It is through our art that we live and breathe with ease and love.
Then, that art, music, and form becomes the image of a world filled with consciousness. Thanks Don, for bringing this forth so often, filling our life with new understanding revealing the presence of that living God.
Thank you, Don! So beautiful…
I am busy making art in the life I am given, like a wild rose beside the sea — my blooms are gone, fat rosehips gleam like jewels in the damp salt air. Winter storms are coming across the sea for my leaves. I’m content, no matter what happens. My attention is fixed in my roots, winding around the curved fragments of shells and other life, reaching, eternal, art below for now, and soon enough above.
Don, Jamail, Lloyd, thank you for your exquisite expressions. The stirring in my soul is silent thunder.
Yummy…what delicious imagery!
…the Earth, the Wind, the Fire, the Water… return, return, return, return…
oh-h-h-h…yes! “Morning has broken, like the first morning…..”
You have breathed sensuousness and ecstasy into your crafted Word.