Sometimes when I consider what tremendous consequences come from little things, I am tempted to think there are no little things.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
A couple of weeks ago I started dipping my toes into art and it's a feverish need in me now. It's a rampage in my lungs and a shouting in my whole body. It's seeping out of my pores and dancing out of my fingertips. The silence and waiting have given way to a riot of color and form and words like a flood washing away my old life. All my secrets are playing with the instrument of my heart.
I don't have time to wash my hands before the next image begins to force it's way into the light.
What did I do with my life before now? I can't remember the time when fear left my paint and brushes sitting quietly collecting dust and regret.