April

Wax and Wane
(An end within a beginning)
By Glory

The long haul
build up
before an end
all I can say
is you’re
my friend

No shadows
of a
coming wind
But in a
beginning
there must be
an end

Yet business
does not distract
or silence
take me
Made of wax

Melting wane
of candle light
Springtime
April
parasite.



 April showers bring May flowers. But first come the rains. That is the part people like to leave out of their minds. Everyone wants the flowers but not everyone wants to go through the watering, even if it is what could end up giving them life.
Imagine being April; always looked over to May. The month that is the preparation for another. “April is the promise that May is bound to keep.” If your name was only ever whispered as a secret, wouldn’t it be hard to feel needed or wanted? But then I think that maybe April doesn’t feel that way. Maybe April’s quite inconsistency of sunshine and rain is not simply overlooked preparation for May but the tricky unpredictable necessity that knows without herself, May would never bloom.
Imagine yourself as April again. April doesn’t care if we do or don’t like rain. She knows the earth needs it to begin its growth. There are always endings in beginnings.  If that weren’t so, April showers would bring no May flowers.

Every new beginning is some other beginning’s end.

My Creative levels are low. The gas light in my mind has come on. We don’t choose what inspires us. In my handwriting i don’t choose where the capital letters go, but when I type the computer chooses for me. My life is slightly illegible and by that I mean I’m just figuring things out. Who isn’t. Yet this art (bellow), inspired by the words written by myself and given words by the saying (above) written by someone else is just one of those things to keep my mind running on empty. In other words, send juice. (The creative kind)

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The use for this book, which was to be read, came to an end when the art began. The little bee you see came with the Wax and Wane. That process of build up and break down goes on until I get to a point of refinement. But like the rains I shall not look over the endings in the beginnings. I won’t be afraid of my leached creation. Let the parasite move on and start again. Here we are, sunshine and rain. This is growing weather and oh how I love these April showers.

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” I have been easy with trees
Too long.
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.
Now
Suddenly
This rain.”

If life and art danced together
their silhouette would be the outline of a
Watercolor Woman

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