The faces inside the blue

The faces inside the blue

I never asked a face to come,
I never drew an eye,
I only moved the colours round,
And let the picture dry.

But something happened in the blue,
A shape began to grow,
And when I looked much closer in,
I saw what I didn’t know.

There seemed to be a figure there,
Half hidden from my sight,
Surrounded by a hundred marks,
That changed beneath the light.

Then faces seemed to come and go,
Some old and some unknown,
As though they’d waited in the paint,
To find a place called home.

I moved my eyes from left to right,
Then turned the picture round,
And every time I looked again,
Another shape was found.

The green became a distant land,
The blue became a sea,
And somewhere deep between them both,
A face looked back at me.

I couldn’t tell you who it was,
Or why I saw it there,
But something in that painted shape,
Made me stop and stare.

Perhaps we see what lives within,
Perhaps our minds create,
The little things we never planned,
That quietly sit and wait.

But I won’t paint those faces out,
They’ve earned their little space,
For every time I look again,
I find another face.

So stay inside my world of blue,
Whoever you may be,
You came without an invitation,
But you’re staying there with me.

They rose from the colours

They rose up from the colours,
Although I drew no one,
They seemed to climb towards the blue,
As though their time had come.

The green went reaching through the paint,
Like fingers through the air,
And suddenly I had the thought,
That something might be there.

I saw what looked like lifted arms,
I saw a shape take flight,
I saw the pale against the blue,
Come slowly into sight.

Below them grew another world,
In green and deepest red,
Like flowers from forgotten years,
Where silent feet had tread.

I didn’t tell the paint what do,
I let it have its way,
It twisted into little forms,
I hadn’t planned that day.

And isn’t that the strangest thing,
When something you have made,
Can show you things you never drew,
Inside a mark or shade.

Perhaps they’re only shapes I see,
Perhaps that’s all they are,
But imagination travels where,
Our ordinary eyes can’t far.

So I call this my spirit art,
Because that’s how it feels,
Not proof of what lies past this world,
But something that reveals.

It opens up my wondering mind,
And lets my thoughts run free,
For what another person finds,
Might not be what I see.

So rise again my painted forms,
Through green and red and blue,
I gave the colours freedom once,
And look what they went and drew. ❤️