Silent movement

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Time to look inside.
To understand and sort out the colors
Feelings and thoughts
Choosing the brushes,
Observing the quiet canvas
Blanking out the mind, the soul
Diving deep into it
To become the thread and the weft
And embody that delicate space
Between the white rough tissue
and the black soft graphite of my pencil
Gently, tenderly scretch one line at the time
And another line,
and another one and then so many
And so intensively and so madly
That the arm will fall exhausted
And the eyes will close
and the muscles will give up
All together
Collapsing in silence
Until only the sound of my breath
Will again catch my attention
And this tired breath will inspire
Inspire and expire, again and again
Until the sublime act of painting.
Love disguised in gesture
Colouring each space
Creating life and form
That will forever seat
in deadly stillness
And yet
say so much
Throughout eternity
Even long, long after I’m gone.

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