The Artist

The Artist

She lived on the edges,

shadow dancing in negative spaces

Although she was chary of trying anything unfamiliar

her waldosia helped her find faith

Sometimes, that smiling face in the crowd

provided enough aether to alter perspectives

She prowled in the dark

exploring blindly, trusting intuition

Although she’d grown accustomed to this solitary life

her faith helped her find hope

Sometimes, that hushed voice rising above the din

provided enough inspiration to soften boundaries

She created at the break of each day,

following a demanding muse

Although she saw no end in sight or light in that very dark tunnel,

her hope helped her find beauty

Sometimes, that one steadfast companion

provided enough courage to step away from the edges

photo: mine

prompts: Word Nerd Wednesday

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