They Rose From The Colours

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 on,
Beyond the nearest star.

So I call this my spirit art,
Because that’s how it feels,
A world appearing through my hands,
Where something strange 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. ❤️