Waxing Poetic

Waxing Poetic

There are days when the Spirit fills you and it cannot be contained. Once we open to it, to her, she will posses you when and where she pleases. Some call her Muse, others name her God – I like to think of her as Lover. She strokes my soul with an electric hum – vibration and movement which cannot be resisted.

She is my Love and my Life and my Savior. She is the spark which ignites me and sets me on fire.

Yesterday, her flame grew so hot she melted wax and guided my hand to create something new…a work in progress.

Come Play in My Art Box

Life is art.  Art is life.  

What could be better than to celebrate it all.  The joyful tic – the skipped beat knocking at the back door of the mind found in paint, paper and the detritus of everyday.

Celebrate it all I say.  Include the decay and break-down along with each new stroke of hand, finger, tip, and tongue slick with the color of yes.  Yes to it all.

This – my stream of consciousness full of the shapes and hues which amuse, bemuse and suffuse me.

Come and play in Rowena’s Art Box.

untitled

untitled