Posted 25 January 2013 - 06:05 PM
and on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Art-of-Jim-Demick/261669903877527
"There are some things money can't buy...A good imagination is one of them
Posted 29 January 2013 - 01:37 PM
Posted 02 May 2013 - 10:48 AM
There is no escape from the torrent of rain that follows so closely. The sky so black it almost isn’t there. I am enveloped in the forest which I run, every turn thickening. Branches bend to me as faces from my past reprimanding me again and again. My forearm is no protection against the thrashing. Welts develop my strength wains as the hours pass. I need to find protection from the misery engulfing me. Through the top of the trees I vaguely see daylight though it is unattainable from my vantage point. Desperately I whirl in circles praying to find a clearing, at this time there is none for me. I trudge onward; my clothing becomes a burden with its weight but provides a layer of warmth and protection that is urgently required. I sing out in anger and frustration at a world that has disheartened me. Exhausted I through myself against the nearest trunk and sink among the leaves. Here I lament for the entire forest to listen should it care too.
Contained within my petite frame are dreams and wishes concealed. A mockery, they are, to what I have settled with. I clipped my wings and blistered my feet I am not content with my niche in life. Lethargic though not content to be, no motivation is strong enough to move me. Considering the respectable people who surrounded me I should be motivated but I am just not focused, why?
The rest has allowed strength to build within my body I gain footing and continue the search for my clearing. Mature trees stand before me graceful as nature has intended them. Many changes have occurred in their life time with many more ahead. They adjust to light and rain to best feed. The soil here is rich and nurtures them constantly. Fallen leaves, natures cast offs become the earth again. Their skin is tough to shield from the cold bitter winds. Touch their rugged pattern, feel the soul within each one. Some are left alone with dignity while others are cut down without warning. The history of hundreds of years gone. A stump, reflective of a tome stone, the memory of life lived.
The rain lets up I peer between blades of hair long and straggly across my eyes. I need the sun to dry the heavy clothing soaked against my skin. Each step is cumbersome. Under the weight my ankle boots sink in the muck, I am truly a mess. I find momentum that carries me through till firm ground is under my feet once more.
The forest surrounding me begins to thin. My face streaked with mascara from the pelting rain feels the sting of warmth from above. I search further for sun light to caress my pitiful form soaked from years of self-destruction. Each movement is emancipation from the monster. Each movement brings me closer to the clearing. The anticipation exhilarating, the sun has broken through. Its warmth drying the heavy clothes covered in twigs and mud from my journey. A journey that has changed me, the darkness left behind.
Edited by White Witch, 02 May 2013 - 10:50 AM.
Posted 02 May 2013 - 02:06 PM
Posted 02 May 2013 - 04:31 PM
SHALOM my friends !
Posted 03 May 2013 - 05:49 AM
SHALOM my friends !
Posted 05 May 2013 - 05:58 PM
Posted 08 May 2013 - 10:46 AM
Posted 08 May 2013 - 01:16 PM
Posted 20 May 2013 - 05:01 PM
Posted 21 May 2013 - 08:15 AM
Posted 21 May 2013 - 03:23 PM
Oooo, you want me, don't cha', camera...
Have you yet to run for the bathroom, WW?
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