The world has beauty not much are familiar with, or perhaps some do not cherish it. The sky as blue as the waves of the elegant water the trees and lands as green as ever an oh so stunning shade how come some are not aware? How come some do not care about what is around them of bliss and glory, as what has been said ''regret is stronger than gratitude 'people cannot comprehend how much beauty the world of color possesses until they lose it, until they lose the color that has been once all around them.
The sky is no longer blue its grayish its sorrowful the water is no longer fresh and relaxing its salty the land is no longer a shiny vibrant green it is a pessimistic bitter green.
In a world if black and white
sorrow takes height
jubilation takes a hide
despair is all
There is no more
Color within
The world of bright
As bitter as the world Is what speaks to me most is the water, so graceful yet ever so deadly the water leaves u no choice but to go down in it. However, I also despise the water as it reminds me the sorrow and pain in life as the sadness drags u down into it trapping you in a bubble of despair and misery, they both are so different yet so alike.What I have loved to imagine was that deep in the water there is magic pulling you into it sort of how a magnet works, power and beauty putting a spell upon your eyes making you fall into its trap.
Once again despair is very familiar with the deep mysterious water as they both put a spell on you one to the good and one to the bad misery is evil, yet it is magical as without sadness happiness would lose what meaning it has. Life is a constant battle against the dark parts of one's brain a battle no soul shall surrender in, again such words are said with ease yet how hard is it to listen to what you write .
I wish I hadn't surrendered because now the battle I was leading was lost ,the acrid parts have won leaving the good parts in pieces not knowing where to go .Fog in my mind my thoughts are as loud as ever yet as quite is ever .what has passed from months feel like perhaps a lucid dream where I have lost complete control of what movement my now self does ,a self I no longer associate with a stranger I would say my once pale face has grown more pale my once bright joy filled eyes now as dim as ever the hair I used to dote I have grown to hate .
I am unrecognizable to my own self , how does that even happen how come the person u once were disappears and you are left with fragments of that self ,broken pieces memories I no longer recall linger in my mind the feeling of such memories exist yet the memory itself is no longer in sight the feelings I once loved the feelings I have grew to behave upon have altered leaving crumbs behind .This self I have become is what I despise as it is not who I am ,yet I cannot remember who I am.
As I lay in my atelier seeking inspiration for the canvas that lays upon the easel, nothing in mind nothing at all every time an idea pops in mind it soon gets submerged with other thoughts drowning it till it is no longer heard, I recall how joyful painting made me, yet I view those memories not from my own two eyes but similar to a producer watching a movie, as if I am watching my own self paint. Something about the vibrant life-soaked paint hitting the deserted empty canvas filling it with mythical beauty one the canvas has never witnessed the brush strokes moving in a smooth simple elegant way, I cannot shake off.
I have grown fond of the brush memorizing the scheme and rhythm it moves upon my hand has gotten used to moving with the brush in my hands painting has become my language, a language I dot unconditionally yet one I am starting to detach from, what do you do when the only way you can possibly express yourself is no longer available? what perhaps I will keep trying until it does.
I put down the brush leaving the room and shutting the door at last .to the chair bellow the towering window I headed ,the glow of the crescent moon lit the chair and what is surrounding it from books and whatnot the graceful moonlight added beauty to what was before it a dull chair .I sat in the chair starring onto the distance with the tress decorating the wide lands that lay beyond this acrid house .it feels like this house doesn't fit in with what is around it of beauty , a dim bitter house in the middle of bliss ,in the middle of trees and flower gardens. I had picked this place for its calmness something i was missing deep inside.