how a brush stroke
or a phrase
can create
an icon
how few lines
or words
are required
to tell a story
and how every story
and every icon
means something different
to everyone
Though so reduced
In form I find
Her beauty
Undiminished
By the things we
construct
create
imagine
For
love
grace
beauty
meaning
Utility
Matters little
To me
Except
In a tool
For creation
Somewhere beyond
The vanishing lines
Where the land rises
Above the horizon
The straight lines curve and wind
Flaxen plain becomes jagged stone
Sunset gives way to twilight
Gives way to deepest night
There the adventure begins
I love the places
Which carry the past
Into the present
Better still, the places where
Past and present co-exist
Without need for justification
A roiling plume
Like my mind
As I’m buffeted
Not so steadfast
As the rocky peaks
His awakening would be
Celebrated around the world
Though his eyes never opened again
Few
Enough left who could
Read
The irrelevant past
Now
Silly stories of
Love
Self help for plentiful
Times
Dystopian imaginings for a world of
Ease
So it was no wonder salvagers
Found
No value in printed
Words
Pix to Words 