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A blue moon lights a forest of ancient trees covered in moss. Shadows cast long berms of snow. A figure of a man tends this burgeoning fire surrounded by snow. The mans clothing formal mid 13th century, flowing blues, and purples, wind sweeps his face and hair. The glow of the moon interplays with the light of the fire. Creating shadows a dance of light, and dark. Oil panting, airbrushed, ink highlights, Jasco, titanium white.
A blue moonlit spark exiled to the woods. I tend the light with open cloak and hood.
Lost no more I set knelt fueled by a gaze. To be crowned takes far more than faith.
I steam sappy knots, I fear no gnawing hunger dancing upon their paws.
Sanguine balanced against shadows I've crossed.
Only to be reminded many currents stack against me, my hand knows few in touch.
No prudence at my side, a beast with an edge. Doubt's the lens others refract my thoughts.
Soft blues emanate from a low slung moon.
Does a dream forge the man, or is it the other way around?
A forest of trials I find before me, a blue summer borrows fuel.
Vicious patterns break, milestones of a memorialized path.
I seek a dance, 2 an unwritten tune.
Daring change never comes easy, to be I yield answers. In bending, I tend new roots.
F.E.E.
1ov3
ADB
