Hello, I Love You Can You Tell Me Your Name

It was November 20th. The year doesn't matter, you can assign one if you desire. An artist sat. We are entering his world well along his quest, his journey had begun a long time ago. His current assignment was to rediscover St. Davids Chords. It wasn't an easy task, for you see he had chosen sculpture as his medium. His work, up until this point struck chords of lack, chords of pain. The winds from the shores of his village gasped in awe at his creations, his quick rise in ability; but he (and the divine that supplied the gift) knew that no matter how renowned he grew, or how wise he became in the pursuit, his Liberty relied on achieving that magic chord. For four years he travelled, letting his guides find the prima materia that he would use to create his masterpieces. On hills, in green fields, in the metropolis he created works that channeled the world to be both beautiful and musical. He never left his name, the signature was the sound the wind made as it passed through his design. 

As he sat this day in the sun, running theories of form and new angles through his mind, a shadow passed his weary eyelids interrupting his inner gaze. He rose to catch a glimpse of a figure. Walking now, but ever so lightly along the ground too far ahead, he thought to have been the shadow. The image had weight but little form. Almost certain it was a person, when he attempted to discern a gender, he saw that what he thought was flowing hair was a pair of wings. 

Something rose within him. He had mingled with guides before but this, this muse carried the light and the dark. Having interrupted his gaze, she now stood in his presence with the rays to he face allowing Sol to kiss her body and sending that passion from behind her to his heart. He realized he was speaking to the apparition...

"Hello, I Love You. Can You Tell Me Your Name?"

She turned and smiled. She replied. "Thank you, I Love You Too. My name is your song. She turned back to the sun and it shined brighter. He closed his eyes, once again taking in the gift of light to his Third Eye, and the light moved directly to his mind. When he opened his eyes to join her she was gone. A trail of iridescent feathers linked their previous positions. He collected the feathers for his work. A dedication to the muse only there for a while, and yet with the world through his work. Forever. 

Johanna BurwellComment