The Artist And His Paintbrush

>>I love this one

Using a voice I cannot hear
he calls me outside
and stuns me as I walk
by him in his workshop…

…his invisible hands reach out
and dim the lights
as I stand in silence
– my breath slowly seeping away

I adore his being – though
unseen – eyeing his palette –
picking his paintbrush –
and starting with orange…

…with magical whisks of the
intangible brush – held with
hands unseen – he transforms
the dull canvas into a play of colors

The orange turns to pink as the
fluffy whites become a fading blue
and time unnoticeably escapes
with the light – into a hazy blackness…

…and men go to sleep