9 May 2013

passion

I stood in front of this canvas of love and anger.
I felt his brush strokes scratch the surface of the paper.
P u l l the fibers away, revealing its underside.
His anger
in this world defending who he is
became mine.
I longed to scrawl across its face
this. is. not. fair.

I wanted to help. I wanted to join in his cause.
I watched her dance and she spoke to me.
Her arms wrapped around me.
Her legs her muscles her strength.
I j u m p e d, I was a i r b o r n e
with her.
I cried when she became still.
Not tears of anguish or
heart broken never to be mended.
But with love
with fullness for what she had done.
I wanted to be her

The notes wash over me
like fresh water on a sun baked body.
I feel the BASS
through my feet.
My spirit s o a r s
with the delicate turn of his voice.
I want to SHOUT
to sing
but am silenced with sound.

When immersed   surrounded  
with such RAW
overpowering
EMPOWERING
talent
I want to inhale it
to become it
to make it
...mine.
I feel their P A S S I O N
I feel it well inside me
I want to release it
 
h e r e
i t
i s



circa Feb 1998 courtesy of Wayback Machine

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