Clouds are piling on clouds. Masses of chiaroscuros. The wind in your eyes, a storm within your heart. Hold on tight to a love that will expire with the universe, breathe and dive deeply into your skin. Withdraw all water from pain. Still, only pain remains. Open yourself up as the horizon’s goniometer and embrace world’s mother, the sea, mutely. Suddenly a flock of soul appears, moving relentlessly in circles; and for a rare, fleeting moment in existence you find Him looking right back to you. It is God moving over the face of the waters. ‘Why hast thou forsaken me?’ you ask, although you know. And He replies, ‘Nothing is heavy to those who can ascend’.
στο δρομο των κυκνον
ReplyDeletepoetry .... Mister John Drakos is an artist with a diferent point of view...dont ask for realism here cause we talking about art ... art in lost words , art between pictures and frames , art from another anonymous word beyond ours .... if you see your mirror you will discover two reflections .... one ordinary with your face and your eyes and one other with your soul...Mister Drakos can see both of them .... thats the big difference ... he can see art in real life , cause real life is a hiddent art
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