She says she's burning with optimism's flames, away away

“Never seen her glowing
all that bright she’s throwing
like some aurora
from her head it’s growing
reaching to the ground and all around
like a Navaho blanket

Never heard her singing
now she’s gently ringing
like copper wind chimes
what on earth is bringing up this stream
the cat who got the cream is licking her lips
and smiling like her Cheshire cousin
She claims she’s found a way to make her own light
all you do is smile, you banish the night”

[XTC – Burning With Optimism’s Flames]

I paint it all here, a wide, white canvas devoid of words or feelings until I touch it – my fingers fly across black keys, pale letters [some worn away from dedicated use] clack clack clack until my emotions, thoughts, feelings colour the page. I use my experiences to create my art. I am my own art.

I suppose I’d classify myself as a mixed-medium piece… I add on texture and light and colour, then I scratch away bits, and glue other things that I find to my canvas. Sometimes there’s a shiny bit, and sometimes a little bas-relief or a hole that I’ve carved in to let the air mingle with my paints. I don’t know. It’s a process, and it isn’t finished by any means.

Build, increase, adorn, exult. That’s the path for me.

I write, as openly as possible, about my experiences with life, love, creativity, depression and not-depression. I share opinions. I promote compassion and change. I talk about music. I also write poetry and short stories. I like to share them here.

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