Crude graphite scratches a harmony onto paper;
A tattoo of thought and ideas
A scarring of images; internal rage and pain
A lingering kiss filled with joy, humour and love
Or perhaps, an etched still of lingering observation.
Fibres entwine here.
Graphite smudging a perfect surface.
A trio of essences collide;
Mineral, mind, material.
Words are formed within the sacred bounds of my notebook.
Their decisive combination develops into meaning.
Spidery scrawls lumber across the manuscript.
Dark retractions blemish the page,
They symbolise process, not mistake.
Tear not a page.
Do not scrunch nor discard it.
Savour the process.
The pendulum stops swinging at centre,
When energy no longer swirls...
Only then is the process complete.
4th February 2007