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Updated: Nov 10, 2022

I looked into the realm of memories and my heart was heavy with the vision. Moment-feathers clutched by black tarred walls, a stench of guilt and stinking and clinging to each fragile wisp like a hot fist claiming corrupted rights to a life — my life.

But then. Blood sprayed and splattered cascading the walls, a white-washing from the Breath of Grace. It came and covered until the tarred backdrop was saturated and the feathers wet and dripping, wrenched down.

Then came the water

A deluge

And a Hand

A force of Love

Raised each washed memory

And regrouped them with clarity

On an illuminated canvas

In Principio



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