“Art never seems to make me peaceful or pure.”
— Willem de Kooning
Art drives my dreams in colour and shape. My hands express visions that my mind can’t contain. I surrender to line and I kneel to the curve with symbols and memories of events I have never seen. Once known, my mistress cannot be forsaken tho my talent may never reach to encompass her. I will forsake all before I give her up and in her absence I am forlorn. I soil myself to feel her caress and each stain on my soul becomes yet another utterance given by her.
Blessings, G
Riding Out the Storm by G A Rosenberg 
Expecting Answers More Complex by G A Rosenberg 