The rhythms of life can be altered in an instant.
Heart rendering pangs.
Lifeless, cold, still, and solemn.
Suspended in space.
Calculating, decisions, judgment and reasoning.
Abstractions reaching out to encapsulate us, entwined within our bodies.
Making sense of “nothingness.”
A mesomorphic mass.
Moments to absorb.
Shaping, refining and sculpting into “somethingness.”
Casting away fear, doubt and anxiety.
Relying on the blank white space.
Our easel, changing into pastels, adding a splash of color..
Reflecting the light of our Maker and our solitary prisms.
An artist at work.
Masterpieces in the making.
Processing the finite.
Never giving up.
Realizing the best days lie not behind us.
But before us.
“There but for the grace of God go I.”