Meditation on Painting

Meditation on Painting

When the closure comes and the finale is apparent
Running is no longer possible
As paralysis sets in, the fear is overwhelming.
Only floating is possible
Because nothing else is real

The desperate search for truth leaves you lonesome and sometimes useless
Only art is real
Only creation is full
The emptiness is lost as timelessness begins.
In the frenzy of birthing, the thick liquid of color

The mixing and melding of a soul.
Only here is reality
When I begin
Crawling inside
The fullness of space, invisible yet so tangible
Screaming with life
Sonic sounds that vibrate and pulse
Causing chaos and churning and gasping for breath
Takes you to that place of solitude
Where quietly and subtlety penetration begins
The silent part that hides and waits
Till the emptiness is complete
Saying, yes, I am here
And for one single moment fills all things up
All holes and crevices where energy has leaked
Calming the chaos
Preparing the dreamer, the soul, the body, for what is to come.

Here is the turning, the spinning, the wonder,
The whirling and whirling
That cleanses the soul and casts out the devils
With outstretched arms
Embraced by a beat more ancient than time
All lifetimes pass by, meshed together in a blur of memory
And the clearing is made
The choices are clear
The painting begins.