One beautiful thing I noticed about my art works of recent is that it speaks for its self, making it easier for me to write about it, honestly I'm not really a fan of too much writing or talking, but the moment I stare at the pieces the words just flows.
Below is a little poem I wrote on this powerful piece.
When the Sun Stood Still
They say there鈥檚 a moment,
just before night claims the sky,
when time holds its breath.
The sun a molten crown of gold,
and fire lingers on the horizon,
refusing to fall,
as if it knows
the world is not yet ready for the dark.
The meadow drinks in the light,
each blade of grass
burning greener than life itself,
while the forest stands guard,
its shadows woven thick like velvet.
In that fragile pause,
you feel the truth that endings can be beautiful,
and goodbyes can glow.
Progress shots
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