An artist moved into action.
Fingers, a brush, intention, collision. Flecks, streaks, bubbles and trouble.
A stir of the cauldron.
A prismatic potion in a magical world.
Secret roots give birth
To leaves withheld from earth.
Leaves twinkle: each a kite
Every patch of this world is a canvas. Hands of unseen artists work mysteriously. Beauty suddenly rises like magic.
A strong, tenacious flirt
With stone convulsed to dirt.
Struck planet on a tether.
Roots stitch the world together.
Our eyes see nothing but reflected light. Reflections on the water are like shining glimpses of a higher world, a world that we cannot touch and barely fathom. Perhaps that is our own world.