Rippled movement….blank thought painting

I stood on the shores of a rippled thought

Watching colors change form

Beyond their norm

A synchronicity of hues

To cleanse the board

Of words.

Wiped away, the water colored streaks ran down

Gravity the agent

Of where the things move

Settling deep in the cracks

Into the creases of a full mind

And with a finger dusting a space

A clean me sign perhaps

And I watched it, waiting

For something, anything to come up

Like a suffocating fish that rises

It knows where to find the key

To live,

To breathe in the life force of a sentence

A quote

And lyric or melody

But the blank board sits mocking

And I see it then,

There doesn’t Have to be Anything,

It is perfect in the absence or presence

It is waiting there for the touch of chalk,

Of paint,

Of a simple thought to create

And there was in each pot a color swatch

And adding a bit of water life

The hues ran up, then downward in waves,

Streaking across like a pale sunset lost

Amidst the glory of bubbling clouds

Content within

That it became.

Pushing towards now

With each drop that falls

Absorbed into the parched soul

Life moves at a pace

Replacing on and all,

In circular forms of round and round

I hold each drop

Like a grain of sand

Or a seed to be planted

Like words and actions

Pushing towards now

Motion spins us carefully

As we rush by hurried in this tiny world

Going faster till done,

Wondering where each day went

As we lay spent and weary

Empty is our cup

Thirsting for just one drop

To make us full.

Yet the smallest to tallest

We seek the path that leads us to there,

To somewhere, anywhere

And we never quite stop to enjoy the scents

Of the bark and soil moist after a humid night

Where the moon shines down

Two am wanderings into the dark

Hands held high as if to catch

The pale light falling like a cloak

Pink orb whispering her night serenade

And I stand hushed by her glory,

Present on the ground

Head in the sky