Touch
Soft pastels, packed, in the red canvas bag. Drawing paper packed too. Intentions to create.
I touch none of it while I'm gone. Instead, it is I who am touched by mornings and evenings, myriad wonders. Grains of sand, beach grasses, trees sculpted into permanent leaning beside the sea.
Perhaps what fascinates most is the light. How it moves through, illumines, casts shadows long and lacy or haunting. I have never paid so much attention to light before; each day brings a new kind, and I follow it over dunes, into seed pods, over pebbled waters. I reach to touch it, but instead it touches me.
Shell at Sunset photo, by L.L. Barkat.
Labels: art pilgrimage, Long Island, spiritual practice, spiritual reflection
5 Comments:
i feel the joy of the light in these words and in this most beautiful capture of it's gentle touch.
a quiet place today... beautiful.
when i started photographing light, my photography came alive. it is almost as if i found God in my art. it was a happy day then and each time i find it, the joy resurfaces.
Oh, yeah. The reminds me of the morning I spent watching the steam rise from my tea...
light says so much...you touched what was needed~
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