The Expressionist

When fear finally dissipates from the furnace inside,

The strangulation of expression ends and my muteness is gone,

My voice comes back to me

and calmness of mind returns,

Then self esteem and fluidity of thought create improvisation.

When I gather both paint and brush and think of an idea, or maybe not,

Music is played signalling a return to peace, 

I begin with the first brush stroke and satisfaction,

In the flow of spirit and energy I'm guided by outer power,

I look back and I'm amazed at what I did.

When I paint, I paint with fire,

I paint with gusto and passion,

Energy and pace, 

What you see, is what's inside me,

I let it flow without judgement,

I let it flow.

I practice over and over,

Proliferation brings with it wisdom,

I practice over and over,

The exhilaration never ends.

When I cry out,

When I hope for inspiration,

I know the listener is present,

I know there'll be a kind response and an act in perfect discernment, 

Fore my passion is a good one and the picture is true,

Whether I use Prussian blue with lemon yellow and white, or scarlet with effervescent gold, 

I know if I'm happy and energised, I've done a good job.

When I sit back and absorb the moment,

I realise again and again that life is very simple,

We complicate things,

But, when we follow our heart and feel the moment, we live life,

Our picture, our voice, it speaks a thousand words,

The furnace still burns bright,

But the fear has gone!