My Art

Untitled.

Posted on: April 18, 2009

You can almost smell the evening summer air. Off by the edge of the woods of maples and pines, you walk on a path with the tall grass surrounding you. It’s a little warm, with the air adding almost a purplish hazy color floating around. Fireflies fly about. Ahead of you is the unappreciated lake that apparently only you find fascinating. You look down to your right and gladly look at the kids walking beside you, the boy, holding a fishing pole and a tackle box, and the girl, skipping, with a sweet scented wildflower help up to her nose. You look to your left, and see him, holding your hand, the man who has been there with you through thick and thin, the same country boy you told all your friends you hoped to come along one day. You tilt your head back to look up into the sky blissfully, and say a word of prayer to the good Lord that he could lead you out of the dark and into the way, the truth, and the life. As you think about your past, how innocent you were as a child, you wonder if it could ever come back, the precious memories that you thought were once painful, are what motivates your actions, but your future is what keeps you going. Maybe in your old age, you can follow along and summarize your life into a musical melody, much like what your lifelong goal was–to live a happy life and make it into a melodious song that you would hope to be made one day.

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