A stroke of ink,
Hair falling softly,
Is it a mountain pass,
Or a step,
I stumble,
A wave of black ocean,
The road is long
Even for immortals
Only one’s light
Can lead the way.
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In the eaves of night,
A full moon illuminates chance,
A scroll unrolled,
The words of life and death tumble and fall.
God shines brighter than the moon,
Walking soundlessly in a garden
That no longer can be found
Am i waiting for you
Or are you waiting for me
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One of the Gods passing by, happens to turn and stop by a temple. Perhaps the temple of my home. The God’s long white hair, sweeping in the wind
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This is my newest drawing. It shows a man playing a harp, with lightning bearing down on him and his companion. Umbrellas have long been a symbol in my artwork, representing shelter, and also depression and hidden thoughts.
I have this idea that music can bring down the wrath of God on a musician, and it is a beautiful thing. The musician plays bravely on, even under the wrath of lightning.
Black clouds are rare in my drawings, but in this represent the storm at present, and the foreboding. There is power in nature, but also beauty even in its wrath.
Everything is eternal in music, and fear nothing, when you create