mynetx art

When time is lapsing, those fluffy bands of clouds move along… and your glance may just get lost in the way they are taking. Sometimes in grey, other times half-transparent, and each small group has a soft cover formed of speckled orange white.

Underneath, the black silhouettes of martins, hardly ever alone, but often in a circle of friends, draw a quite transient image. A picture, only to be perceived in the eyes of an attentive spectator – a silhouette of flight paths, backgrounded in frail pastel tones like on a multi-layered painting by a great master.

Indeed, it is a time-lapsed artwork by the One, yes the greatest Master. Each day, every hour and every minute, continuously painted in new colours on the large canvas of the firmament.

This elegant hand rested calmly, with its feminine gentleness and its silver coloured nails. It relaxed and nestled to the arm that supported her naturally, as if she would already have had him next to her for ages. In reality though, only a few days had passed since she had rejoiced with her soft fingers lifting up the yellow green pink bouquet which appeared to be the decorative icing on the cake for the photos of this couple smiling like never before. Sunshine, nearly as bright as their shining faces. The sky, as blue as in the deepest colour pots. The hours, they had passed away as quickly as sand rinsing through an hourglass. Realising that their desire could finally fade away step by step would take time. Confidently, her hand hugged his strong arm, feeling this calmness that she needed so desperately. A uniquely awesome feeling, called love…

They miss each other. They tease each other. They discuss with each other. Everything that’s important. Approximating, adapting. Stone by stone, edge after edge. Sometimes it will shake, now and then their efforts tremble. The sun won’t always wait before setting. But they will manage.

They consult each other. They plan together. They comfort each other. They’re share the joy with each other. About the future. The present. Perhaps not about the multitude of planning. Everything, close to everything should become somewhat perfect. The rest can be sanded. That will take time. But … they will manage.

They are silent, sometimes. He will care. She will grieve. That also happens, definitely. There comes to this the certainty, yes the trust that everything will become good eventually. With goals. Effort. Endurance. Patience. And foremost – with respect and their love toward each other. Since they will manage.

Pray. Get started. Make. Explore. Do. Study. Practice. Enhance. Handle. If there is someone managing it – then it is you.

I am sure.

Calm. Ephemeral. Full to the top, with ideas. Hopes. Thoughts — dared to think them. Perceptions.

Water. Its swooshing sound. Rarely any light. The yellow castle lights on the other side, they mirror as schemes within the restless surface of the river, subjected to permanent change. Their golden rays seemingly bundle to form a bridge. An invitation to believe and walk on the water.

Yet, just moments later, this bridge will disappear into the changes of reflection, as if it would never have been there. Flickering stripes on the water, they tell a tumbling melody of the lost. Monochrome and yet diverse is the canvas that describes itself. Where does the journey lead to?

Most importantly: Why?
Just why.
Faint and silence come up.

  

 

  

 

 

Void.