A sketch of real beauty

   Sketches. Such fine lines that mean
nothing alone but once blended include
beauty.

   Such beauty can unravel. Rolled out
upon charcoal and sepia ink. The darkest
of black bleeding into the muted browns.

    Indeed a caressed wave of time.
Moments fade and brightness explodes.
Come find me. Unhinged from the
mechanisms of all components.
Broken down to the etched groves of
sand and stone.

    Ah indeed the world bends yet water
finds a way to move. Indeed I shall
too.

    Focusing myself, wedging deeper
the roots. Finding the water within.
Growing. Surging. Not failing into the
trap. I hold onto the depth of me.

    Yes the words, the beauty of art I
explore. Oh not allowing it all to
disappear. Not wanting to become a
person lost. No I would like to keep
my head up.

     Dear me, here I go.
   
         A dream unfolded.

                True beauty  is just being me.