STORIES OF OUR OWN mixed media edition on canvas with original hand-embellishments by the artist (limited edition size of 333 with 33 artist’s proofs)
STORIES OF OUR OWN We hold each other, heads pressed together, fingers intertwined The world is one, tangled and prone Yet ours is our own The leaves pass by The weeds. The seeds. The worries drift by The mist, it dampens our skin The twigs, they skim cross our limbs Gravity; it reaches, scratches, and strives to pull us in Into its truth, its reality, its influence and cruelty Its damaging voices preaching vain fear; Its cyclones and sounds, distant and near And yes, the pain creaks in, now and again Bleeds through the cracks and rings in despair It nicks. It scars. It rives. We tear. The time, it rakes and reads into each reddened cell But the years are a test, a test of our sense, to see what's beheld in this transient shell Do we squander in fear, turn night ghostly white, madden and dwell? Or do we fight nature's plight, Climb towards the light from a shadowing well? As for my heart and heart held, we choose to float free, to float through the years In each others arms, in our own hopes and cares In our own mortal prayers We walk to the sky on our own mortal stairs Not theirs We do what we love, see what we want, live as we wish We look through the fields and stray in the haze We drift and sway and dream life in our own fabled ways We call to our hearts, our own beating hearts, in our own made up maze We hold each other, heads pressed together, fingers intertwined As we float through the days