What Substance Will Our Thoughts Incarn

What substance will our thoughts incarn? What will we flesh it out with? Our thoughts, Our past, Our dreams, Our hopes, Our fears? The frame is set, the choices now are ours. Which pens will we pick up? What colors will we select? Will sunlight dabble her hair or will deep forest shadows dance across her face? Ice glistens on her eyelashes and fire shoots from her eyes. Moonlit skin with dark passion upon her lips, glittering ice across her spiderwebbed garment, a scar running its course across her shoulder. Faded tattoos of past lovers mingling along her hip line. Shoeless feet, well-traveled; old blisters healed to calloused edges. What substance has our thoughts incarned? What have we fleshed it out with?