I stood within my reflection, I gathered all of the colors of life, and began again…to paint on water. 

That picture or essence has been writing me for the last week. A connection to something outside of myself that I am examining at the moment.

Life is but brush strokes washed away as quickly as applied, yet the essence of them falls like gossamer threads into the foundations of our being. 

That water is not always clear, it is often clouded with joyous applications, or regrettable dabs into the medium. The clarity comes from the knowing of one’s own colors and the hue they emblazoned upon their life.

The stones below were rough and smooth, all textures a journey finds. Without them, the searching would cease, a colorful island taken slowly away without notice. 

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