Sometimes words drip out of my eyes on to the paper rearranging themselves until they find peace Sometimes images flow through my fingers staining the canvas in colors that have no name Sometimes leaves falling from the trees sing wisdom from the ages and the bark beckons me to dance Sometimes nectar and sap stick to me like a sweet web of past lives and all I can do is wait for the butterflies to set me free Sometimes desolation and disbelief trap me in a shell of my own design and all I can do is wait for the butterflies to set me free
This is beautiful and tender, Boo! 🤍🤍
Thank you, Rea. And thank you for the restack!
Lovely. 🦋