The Gift is Revealed

                             By Georgia Woodward

 

 

                    It is the simple uncovering of a deep growing root

                    that has hidden its way underground.

                    Tenderly,it springs forth to the surface, a glimmer peeks out,

                    Of the inner world revealed                                                                                   .

                    Like a layer of protection that has fallen away,

                   A deep reward for the desire to be more;

                    The flower kept hidden in the secret place of your soul.

 

                   This plant rises up, pushing, pushing, until finally it breaks free,

                   An array of colors glimmering ,and sparkling ready to adorn the backdrop of the

                   Blue, blue sky.

                   It starts as a bud, and emerges into a bloom, like a field of daisies,

                   This palette emerges, and spreads itself in a delicate

                   Balance of colorful striation.

 

                   You a fine artist, I sensed it all along. Now gather your courage,

                    And exceed where I"ve been, a gift you too will discover, or

                    Shield from the noon day sun.

                    Retreat, let the blossoms fall, and fade, wilted and waiting for

                    The next season of your creativity to emerge once again.

                    The colors are orange, as bright as the fruit you might peal,

                    And a deep purple, deep and  decadent in it"s vibrancy.

                     Red, deep, soulful, and tangible it calls to me.                                                              

                     Green as wide and plentiful as an acre of fresh grass.

                     A rainbow of colors will bring you alive, season with letters,

                     that then become words......

                     Worry not about The Critic She sits on your shoulder nudging you with 

                     Whiney complaints;  'not good enough' she cackles,

                      Or, Who do you think you are?

                      Fear not. Flick her off ; regain composure.

                      Then Jump, take a leap, and free fall into the authentic root of the primal

                      feeling, and paint it on the blank white Canvas.

                     Smell the fresh paper, give it breathe, and in so doing you are creating

                      A new life.

 

                                                                                                                                                           

 

                   Copyright   2008 Georgia Woodward