There is no shape to the feeling that has gripped me, no name. It is sensations and currents rippling through me, bringing one moment a tear, then a smile. A hummingness courses through my mind. At the day’s very end, just this one thing seems to tether me to humanity.

Each day I go into the studio alone, leaving my life alone, and from beyond the silence, beyond the darkness behind the eyes, summon swirling shapes and bright lights and etch them on the blank canvas.

Vast stretches of cosmicness, pure and radiant look back at me. Remote, calm, intense.

Do you think they see me?

Do they know how far I seem to travel in these hours in which I wield the brush? Do they realize that I am becoming translucent, more insubstantial, with each sunset day? Disappearing into the void…

Can you see through me into the cold?

Could you come get me?

Bring me a candle perhaps?

Maybe share a cup of tea?


One thought on “Translucent

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