The Source: Sunlight
The glowing white. The shapeshifter. The beyond. I sit attentively in the unfolding of the present, the ribbon of time unravels his tie before me. His rigid hands melt before my eyes, I see a flash of a massive gleaming pearl step out from the walls of a suffocating pink shell. The eternal time fell desperately to his knees, his feathered hair brushed the void as he bowed down with mercy.
The sun dresses in white, each day he stretches his rays to the surface of the Earth, wrapping his hands around each curve, warming the mountains and filling all living vessels with his light. His wristwatch a minuscule suggestion to his potent power, he rises and falls beneath the horizon as he pleases, a willful avoidance from the hands of time.
His essence scatters every surface like a tiled mosaic, colors radiate in every corner. His yellow boldly bounces off of the walls, painting each room he passes through with a coat of honey. His blue dances in the sky each day, kissing the surface of every lake, river, and ocean. His green heart lives on our land, leaves and trees bow to the harmony of the honey light and blue sky, a perfect duet waltzing to the quiet drumming of the beating forest. The red clay warms at the convergence of all life above it, taking form as drapery wrapped delicately around our bones. Our glowing orange skin pulsates in the presence of the source, a warm sensation rushes through our veins, a gentle reminder of our creation.
Violet visions perpetually dance in our minds eye. A rare encounter awakens our spirit with a gentle nudge, a quiet reminder of what's to come.
Painting:
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