silence is a glimmer,
a moonbeam's wavering light
trout in darkened rivers
a dark and sullen night
silence is a shadow,
huddling under trees
weaving in the tall grass
shuddering in the breeze
silence is a mystery,
frost patterns on the panes
sudden streaks of lightning,
cloud-bursts over the plains
silence is an echo
heard in the haze of sleep
the lulls in the bird-call
etched in a dream, deep
[a painting done after a long break. my trusty old laptop's gone, so it will take some time to fine tune the colours and lines the way I want!]
After the first brush-stroke, the canvas assumes a life of its own; at this point, you become both governor and spectator to your own event.
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