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Nov 12, 2012
Media: Oil
Size: 8x10 in
Somewhere out at the edges, the night
Is turning and the waves of darkness Begin to brighten the shore of dawn. The heavy dark falls back to earth And the freed air goes wild with light The heart fills with fresh, bright breath And thoughts stir to give birth to color." —John O'Donohue, Matins All that glitters can be gold. Sometimes it's the sun shooting beams over a mountain peak like a laser, firing in rapid succession. Spouting and spewing its milk and honey glow over all that lies in its path. Like an eruption of shimmery lava, transforming light races down sides of mesas and hills, oozing its way freely to fill entire valleys, and gobbling up the dark like an enormous shark on a feeding frenzy. This ghostly lion trainer cracks its whip, forcing the wild and untamed back into molded cages of form, shape and color...reclaiming what was stolen by the night.
Somewhere out at the edges, the night
Is turning and the waves of darkness Begin to brighten the shore of dawn. The heavy dark falls back to earth And the freed air goes wild with light The heart fills with fresh, bright breath And thoughts stir to give birth to color." —John O'Donohue, Matins All that glitters can be gold. Sometimes it's the sun shooting beams over a mountain peak like a laser, firing in rapid succession. Spouting and spewing its milk and honey glow over all that lies in its path. Like an eruption of shimmery lava, transforming light races down sides of mesas and hills, oozing its way freely to fill entire valleys, and gobbling up the dark like an enormous shark on a feeding frenzy. This ghostly lion trainer cracks its whip, forcing the wild and untamed back into molded cages of form, shape and color...reclaiming what was stolen by the night. |