The orange rings of her exuberance dance across the room
She’s discovering and awakened as she sprinkles her happiness about the place
Carefree and receptive to every person that she meets
Spreading the flame of her being while lighting up the universe
I gaze and bask in the warmth that is she
Awestruck and speechless as I embrace what she is dispensing
For it is her brazen disregard of judgement
That is on display for all to see
Do as she wants and say what she feels
I can’t help but be entranced
And mesmerized by her radiance
As she shares her soul with me
About the Creator
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Where there's Art there's Heart
Here's a stupid thing: I adore art, but I start to panic whenever I step into a gallery. In the one place I should be at my contented best - surrounded by walls teeming with creative expression - I fall apart. What ought to be an enriching experience, tacitly designed to facilitate the exploration of human empathy and perspective, is for me an overwhelming purgatory of anxiety that compresses me to the point I cannot breathe. At the same time, I experience a sense of extraction, as though my head is being prized open to create a hole so big my sanity could evaporate. Somewhere between these two opposing forces of vice and vortex, I feel myself dissolving in a stream of panic that makes me want to cry; and I feel so daft feeling this way, that all I want to do is run for the hills.
By Caroline Janea day ago in Humans
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