Sunday, November 1, 2009

Only Artists


They were the only artists I ever knew.

They were dawn's orange and red, evening's black and blue.
Living under a wave of self-doubt, they drew their own destiny, and seemingly, tilting your head, just in the right light, and a little more.. it sailed. It sailed the right colors and the right waves. Some say they were vagabonds, some say they were survivors, some say they were city-dwellers, but, to me, they were everything. In-between their letters of hatred and love, their fine line was created--a great tree, bending in the wind--but it was tall, it was fierce, it was rooted somewhere, and-- it was them. Deep beneath a sea of shallow leaves and mysterious golden creatures, just behind a hedge of neverending green, and a little more.. was a root that bred that company, and I'm quite honored to say,
I've never found it.

Not yet.


(photo credit: Kime Belluzzi)

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