Swirling and slicing through the white it builds
And entangles senses in its trap of colors and textures.
The feel of it grows until it deafens and kills
Nagging thoughts, logic and defeats the oppressors.
It whirls your senses in and each stroke fills
Your eyes and ears until it deafens as it builds
And you fall under the crash of a wave of skills
The painter has learned to weild
You fall into the cacophony of textures
That deafen the sound of oppressors
With each stroke that gestures
And loses your logic in the mixture
Blues and yellows fight to form a scene
Messy and imprecise but precise in that
Wildness that calls from canvas to soul
That lifts and drags and contradicts
It catches your eye and sticks to your bones
It carries you away even as your feet hold still.
Swirling around your like a tornado that makes you feel less alone.
You can’t make your emotions come to a heel
It builds around you and cuts you off
From the world around you as it connects
You to the world it has built. Each stroke
Swirls you up as it rushes through you
Until all you see, all you hear
Is the smears of paint that texture and hue
The world you have fallen into.