Note to self…

Art is all about beauty. Like beauty, it’s in the eye of the beholder. Some people find art in the simplest ideas or creation. For others it takes something so complex it’s almost unexplainable. Note to self…Art doesn’t have to be difficult for it to mean something. The artist doesn’t have to go through a gut-wrenching period of creation. Some do, some don’t, some don’t even think of their creation as art.Note to self…Where do you see art?

Lying in sandThe ...

Lying in sandThe water washes over my bodyBreatheHoldSubmergedThe water pulls my bodySlowCreepTo the depthsAs it retreatsBreathe againThe moon has long ago setAnd the sun is still hours awayHere I lieFully clothedExposedTo the many eyes Of the night skyPiercing the darknessAbove meRacingAcross the skyIn the distanceAn eye closesFor the last timeFallingTo join me in the depthsLeaving a scar in my thoughtsOf it's departing,A bright YellowgreenbluewhiteDescentBreatheHoldSubmergedThe water tells me The fallen was receivedAnd it wished me luckAs it retired to the depthNo longer holding its breathTruly freePeacefulBreathe againThe remaining eyesSparkleRemembering One of their ownThe wind also remembersWhisperingTo me of the GreatnessOf what I have witnessedIt tells me storiesNot only of greatness, butSadnessJoyBeautyOf weddingsAnd funeralsPicnics and campfires All visited tonightThus a new education beginsTaught by MotherEarthAttended by all who waitHave patienceAnd listen

She just...

She just left here…(30 min ago)I already miss herWe held each other so closely,I lost myself

She just...

She just left here…(30 min ago)I already miss herWe held each other so closely,I lost myself

Quickly, Quietly...

They come from all sidesContentmentJoy,Excitement,Wrapping me eternally, inLove, Tenderness, Warmth.Does she feel this way ever?Does she understand?With three simple wordsShe makes meA better man

I play and she sings

Something I once only dreamed aboutIt's hard to play when she singsI want to devote all of my attention to herNo guitar can sound sweet enoughUnder Her voiceIt's a beautiful struggle Her voice against…everythingIt pulls me underInto a quiet place,PeacefulYet I must continue to playWhen I do stopShe looks at me softlyI am still regaining consciousnessDoes she know where I have been?

It seems I can eit...

It seems I can either write or play guitar...and I chose guitar for now.