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Ends - Wheatfield with Cypresses Van Gogh
Without a skeleton of ash, there would be nothing -
a charcoal outline, cheating the mortal coil
beneath the colour.
Creativity and visions carry us, just proud
of the knowledge of our bones,
a flicker tries always to remind us, bring us down.
Today, I offset the cypress and inhale the wind.
The wheat curves with fullness,
forgetting too that the scythe comes soon.
The clouds playful, like they haven't heard of storms,
the delicate poppies swaying in tune,
built to last a moment, a moment they claim fully.
As my brush adds the final highlights,
I start again, on a smaller canvas.
Let the mood linger a while,
perhaps to peter, trance-like, with the joy of now,
willfully forgetting what happens when built on ash.
Copyright ©
Di11y Da11y
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