Archive for November, 2012

Ill-tempered Sky

Posted: November 17, 2012 in Egypt, photography
Tags: ,

Splatter of redness upon the sky of Egypt

The deserts of Egypt

Off I go. Chasing you, and the sun, beyond a purple horizon… 

If my thoughts spoke, they’d call your name.

They’d crawl, into your bed of thoughts. Pampered, as complexity untangles; as your thoughts, too, unveil their unspoken words. They’d fall into the embrace of your understanding, into the meadows of your reverberating mind. Gripped, so firmly, by similar thoughts that collide.

They’d dance, in the solitude of memory, in the name of a feeling, undefined. Unleashed. Revived within the premises of mind yet bound to non-existence by the boulders of logic.

They’d dance, to a silent symphony that grows louder. To a melody that echos in the vacuum of a hollowed heart.
They’d dance, to the notes of an arrhythmic heartbeat; music that last only as long as it aches.

 

Yet…

In silence they fade, for they never spoke. They never danced.

They only once existed beyond the realms of logic, beneath the relics of ego. Unspoken.

Oh, do they ever dance again?

Through words I see…

A reflection of the face floating before me. Shimmering  eyes, so bright and vibrant. A look that slowly imposes itself upon the meanings words behold. One that lasts, and alternates to accommodate the sense of  words; words that brought them to life.

Through words I feel…

Alive.

A gradient of emotions that flows as words present themselves. An intensity; radiating, or fading, as words structure themselves together, as they materialize a subtle feeling, as they bring you, and myself, to life.

Through words I hear…

A voice, a whisper. So soft and distant. An echo, of meanings that collide within ourselves, meanings that stray; linger and loiter, then run away only to hide, once again, within ourselves.

And they still echo, they still whisper, a voice that rings a bell. A voice that purges ease into a crippled heart.

Through words…
My senses revel.

Through words…
I keep you close.

For only through words I can see, hear and feel you. Only, and only through them, I can bring your distant existence into subtle, yet significant, presence.

An aura, wafting within a closer proximity, sinking into the vacancy; filling  me up.

Useless is a painting that doesn’t squeeze the feelings out of your heart.

I don’t know what this is, and I don’t want to figure it out. I wasn’t really painting, but rather thinking, speaking… reminiscing.

I don’t know what this is. All I know is:

Trust your feelings. Paint.

Squeeze