|
Emptiness inside me echoes with the crash of waves
Cold aloofness in the face of beauty
Brush strokes continue without my volition
My eyes caress all I have created
I see the beauty that others admire
Could these splashes of color and life
Have come from inside such empty coldness?
Hope inspired; continue to paint
Seeing proof that though I can not envision
I am more than two dimensions after all
__________________
I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.
--Douglas Adams
|