Spirit

  • Drawing

    Every spare moment I have is spent drawing. It is an obsession. An itch that will not go away, no matter how vigorously I scratch it. It is all a great mystery, this creative road I travel. Art has been… Continue reading

  • Let It Become

    It is a softness that wanders the fields with me. Everywhere I go, it is there, sending me off on my uncertain way. Sometimes, I feel like a small bird, left to battle the raging storms of life. I do… Continue reading

  • I Am Here

    Do not look at my face and tell me I am beautiful. Do not look at my skin and see your hands upon my life. Look at me. Look at me. I am here. I have always always been here. Continue reading

  • Energy

    Energy speaks truer than words. Continue reading

  • The Home Of Me

    For when the rain comes, I know I am safe in the home of me. Continue reading

  • The Quiet

    The quiet has come upon me, and so I have to write. It’s a strange quiet, a wonderful one, however mixed with a soft melancholy. It’s been with me, on and off, for as long as I can remember, and… Continue reading

  • Each New End

    Life is a story I tell myself. And I daren’t tell it wrong for fear of the unhappy ending. But what is unhappy? And what is an ending if a beginning is found on the other side of each new… Continue reading

  • The Wind

    The wind, I think, is peace. The breath of the earth. The song of the trees. And we will bathe in her softness, today, and every day. The wind, I think, rolls all days into one. May she catch us… Continue reading

  • Soft Things

    She floats on the wind as they stare. And they will never know her as their own. Never see her truth as anything other than feathers in the garden. Yet, she knows herself, dear. And she knows, darling softness, that… Continue reading

  • Kissed

    How beautiful to see your tears and know your soul has been kissed by music. Continue reading