My home is filled with golden leaves.
They fill my art, they fill my soul.
They're thin and precious,
Like reality.........like the Moment.
They sparkle in the vast fields of
black paint,
They are somethings
in the vast space of nothing.
Without nothing,
there would be no somethings,
There would be no sparkle,
There would be no us.
I bow to the silence
for allowing
my word to be.
For, at first, there was Word.
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