The ones looking at the painting, they are the Work of Art.
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Wild coach, glad you were here🙂
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Inner… as in bowed to the source of Life, as mentioned in the last sentence. The question is, “what is this existence..?” Bowed to things outside of material existence. Bowed in surrender.
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I set out to look within,
to see each sad and tender care,
but when the wheels did start to spin,
lo and behold, I wasn’t there.
I set out to find the real
me that sheltered from the crowd,
the sensetive who could feel,
but that access was not allowed,
for I walk my bushman’s road,
with a song and with a laugh;
in my swag, my only load,
that I carry on this path…
and what might be that weight you ask?
Just beer, mate, for the coming task.
#1 at FMF this week
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