Oh I Do Want That Thing, That

Bless... The Two Painting Masters Who First Pointed Out To Me That There Was Coming And Going Among Trees, That There Was Sunlight In Shadows.

There Was Neither Horizon, Cloud, Nor Sound; Of That Pink, Spread Silence Even I Had Become Part, Belonging As Much To Sky As To Earth.

Let Me Not Fuss And Fret At My Incompetence But Be Still And Know That Thou Art God.

I Sat Staring, Staring, Staring - Half Lost, Learning A New Language Or Rather The Same Language In A Different Dialect.

Writing Is A Splendid Sorter Of... Feelings, Better Even Than Paint.