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A cowboy, rides along side his cowgirl. They seem to dart in and out of the wood chasing a frenetic series of paths. Storm clouds loom ominous on the horizon. Highly saturated colors. The sky where not covered in clouds is lousy with stars, and starlight. A large crescent moon has golden tendrils flow down, and around the pair as the ride the trails. Illustrated, mixed medium. Oil paint, pencil realism, master work, Farcry engine. Mystique meets danger, a game of hide and seek ensues.
Hi,
Rationalization blurs. There's little distinction when the calm feels like fervor. Still too much
ease without paying the price. The trail begs another step.
For too long I fought for a space, and now our horizon holds a bounty of promise.
Could it be true? Do stories spin reality? Could it... A catch, a fall.
Who would spot you if life got too dull?
What a sound... Alison. Another bolt falls from an opal cloud.
This trail follows the drum; it follows the moonlight, crowned en masse.
Rations grow tired. I think it is time for this fire to put out my frost. Seared by the thought.
Splitting a thread. What do you think about life neglecting fun? Sounds a lot like no life at all.
Have I lived? Times were had so, yes. Is it all cherries on top, or is it settling for what's not?
Guilty I may ride the twilight one too many times. Let's keep our eyes to the sky. May we keep off the canyon misstepped.
I'm wild, granted. I submit to few. My style, a concert of blues. Some call it a shame, I call it a trail that's spoken my name.
1ov3 David
Post Script: Found well, healing salves sooth some. A path laid bear. Love the only game worthy of time, it's long been decided.
