The deepest depths
The days are cold . Seaspray stabs like tiny knives.
In the salty air, golden heroes erode to show their tin core.
Waves are crashing in , deafening.
The Albotross knows there is no magic on the surface,
Only deeper depths to excavate, after the storm.
There lie the treasures, the long sought answers. Reflection is only an illusion. Underneath truth waits.
The deepest depths are echoing now. Believing what they hear. Understanding.
Rising to meet the light.
1/5/2018 07:41:23 pm
Beautiful! The painting and the poem. “I’m old enough to know there’s no magic on the surface”— that’s my favorite line. “Old”implies depth too.
1/5/2018 09:33:39 pm
What an exceptional work. Loved it the minute I saw it with our last 31 in 31 Challenge.
1/6/2018 04:15:28 am
I like the composition of the painting. I'm drawn to the windows of the building. The poem makes me feel still and solitary. Good work!
1/6/2018 06:02:58 am
Thank you, Donna! The windows I worked the hardest on. Making them a little abstract on their own by dropping pigment and salt and water and letting them mix.
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