Only when i let the colors slip through my fingers,my soul flies back to me....
in the criss cross of lines , i try to find a line that holds the truth..
i smear dark shades of blues and reds merging them into each other, trying to get hold of my life..
rubbing my thumb over the bark of a tree , tracing its texture..
i crave for more, the nature ...its serenity..
a human form sketched at the last page of my sketch pad...a figure bowing..
i search for the voice within...shrill and yet sacred...
i rush my brush strokes blindly...
coats of paint overlapping,
i add in more colors to feed my hungry thoughts..
the unspeakable ..speaks volumes through the curves and twists..
the tree and the pigeons...the huge blades of yellow green barley..
i paint with the hands which dont belong to me..
they move with a thought of their own..
goin to where the brush takes them...
stroke after storke i stand in a trance, with my feet numb..
i drop my arms , close my eyes and surrender my existence..to the moment..
