My eyes are different.
They reflect my mind to the world and
take in the world with it's colors alive and bubbbling.
Speaking to me the earth communicates it's inner most;
I wrap myself in it and my skin soothes under it's mossy touch.
People come and go. Relationships are forged like hand crafted steel, some breaking under the pressure of life's battles.
The blood spatter forms artwork of the past.
Mirror like, I see myself in those compositions as armour changing like the seasons; walking the milestones of experience and never falling at change, though crimson has colored my bloom often.
Creativity muses it's foundation and sets it's roots in my spine, running life to my heart.
It seems that bringing a sense of distortion to the regular scheduled program brought an understanding of vibrancy that shot out in all directions, like a street light vying for attention against the moon.
On that the foundation for who I am began to immurge and express the many qualities of my person, like an old patchwork quilt- warm, comforting, soft.
However; it's rough edges and un-finsihed depictions still lead to a slight irritation, capturing anticipation in a fish bowl in order to clearly realize it's purpose.
©Krishna Volk 2009