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ArtistA woman holds an out stretched palm, she holds the light of 1000 dawns. As if time slows the darkness before her unfurls as if this light is extending from her hand and struck the horizon a massive release of energy upon the horizon while shock waves reverberate across the sky as if there was no longer a night. Columns act as pillars framing a woman's walk as if the columns framed the steps. The horizon lousy with clouds that seem to burn to a mist of radiance. The concept of being chosen, and choosing. Oil paint, farcry, layered bloom effects, grandeur.
What is revealed by the light?
Could this illumination be ours?
What dispels the night?
Upon the horizon rays defy ill-conceived notions of what's right.
Strings of dawn grace a single palm.
The warmth of a thousand dawns, no finger could tighten around.
An offering, an ancient hymn, a new verse to the Song of Songs.
By grace a trapano was spun upon David's eyes.
For a spell marble gave way to sight.
One foot in front of the other movement born of release.
What of this motion?
Skies began to clear, to make way.
If only Ophelious were no portent of mine.
1ov3
Aaron
