Impressionist

closed lids consciousness adrift a paint brush dipped in colored drips to swirl in the well of ink that slowly swells to paint the canvas of my soul these lingerings of auras and colorful pulses the black and grey shadows of horror the metachrysilis of life in subterfuge hidden and suppressed overflowing in waves and subsiding to crest these flickering images of dawn and dusk faces fluttering in places long gone smiles and tears fading in wavering place van Gogh spyche bindings these dreams not quite so clear emerging growth bounds forth bursting from eyes awoke