I can identify with this portrait in so many different ways.

The unique brushwork itself, projects the contrast between the

intense energy of living in process and the natural chain of

events that lead me to this very point. Harmony stand beside

me interpreting the scene on its own terms. Each stroke of his

technique is fluent and natural as the lift beneath a butterfly

wings on a cool Spring day.

     Each color make the plants and willow leaves come to life,

but aged with vigor and spice they create vivid pastels that

mask the terrains in a way that only a few of us would dare

to comprehend.  Miraculously I can vision huge weeping willow

trees bending gracefully beneath a mountain's peak, right next

to fishes swimming in the spirit nourished streams that flow

over rocks and sand, between trees and soil, beneath clouds

and rain, far far beyond the great lakes...Somewhere hidden

behind the jagged cliffs which lie silently beside fields of hope

that stretches as far as the eye can see.

     The rainbows translucent essence enhances the artist touch,

which allows the ultra violet rays of the sun to praise natures

mild intent.  The order is quickly extinguished by urban tapestry

and lights; thus, we speak of sculpture, literature and music as

a source of expression. Vaguely can I recall a time in my simple

existence of such beauty and mystic. Or a song filled with passion

or a whisper so sweet.

     This picture reminds me of a time in my life when I wasn't

really sure. It's the anchor of a play, a fisher's lure. Such a

conversation piece at a period when man has digressed, my

confidence saved by nobleness. Should I stand against this?

My dying pain...my only wish. It brings me sadness when rains

in contrast, from harm to bliss. Will the colors fade off the canvas

of life? Will I count the waves from an old worn out  pier tonight?

     On an evening exact, I've been called to speak. Not to criticize

my fellow man from his faults or to ridicule his speech. A cause

to be free, as I lapse back in time. I can feel a virgin in the wind and

taste the passion of her mind. At last, I pray alone on my knees adrift'

at night, and watch the sunrise as it sleeps on the horizon...I dare recite.