Painting Is Something That Takes Place Among

There Is Only One Journey. Going Inside Yourself.

Someday You Will Name Me, Then Gently Place Those Burning Holy Roses In My Hair.

I Am So Afraid Of People's Words.they Describe So Distinctly Everything: And This They Call Dog And That They Call House, Here The Start And There The End. I Worry About Their Mockery With Words, They Know Everything, What Will Be, What Was; No Mountain Is Still Miraculous; And Their House And Yard Lead Right Up To God. I Want To Warn And Object: Let The Things Be! I Enjoy Listening To The Sound They Are Making. But You Always Touch: And They Hush And Stand Still. That's How You Kill.

...a Carefree Letting Go Of Oneself, Not A Caution, But A Wise Blindness.

Perhaps Then, Some Day Far In The Future, You Will Gradually, Without Even Noticing It, Live Your Way Into The Answer.