This bowl is void. It’s contents emptied
Again and again by flowing into others
To fill them with the waters they needed.
The lines from all the past pourings stain and mark
The worn, inner walls and alter the muted hues of
This ancient, porcelain relic from another time.
Held and handled by callused and careless
Aquarian fingers that knew not what they carried
Until they finally placed it upon a shelf in silent isolation.
Forgotten, alone, discarded and disheartened
From too many years, too many chips, too many cracks.
Until it was no longer that which it could be or was,
But became something that it was never meant to be.
Poignantly lovely. It has a faint ghost-like quality. You’ve written a couple of others with the same, “interesting but beautiful” feeling.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a lovely approach. I hadn’t thought of that before. That is an amazing take on them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m thrilled you are okay with that description. I wasn’t sure.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Why wouldn’t I be? Touched that you it created a sensation that spurred you to feel something about it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is rare your visual pieces do not touch me in some way. Is this symbolic of you? Are you being poured out?
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s still nice to hear. 🤗 It is up to the reader, I think, to determine if there is symbolism and what that might mean to them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I guess everyone has their own rose colored glasses they view through. Amazing. : )
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the glasses you view the world through!
LikeLiked by 1 person
😘
LikeLiked by 1 person
Today this describes me perfectly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can understand that. But it’s only today. And tomorrow is not today.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed. I look forward to tomorrow.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This has a sentiment which is, to me, like The Velveteen Rabbit. I know it may seem like a stretch, but that is what happened in my head as I read it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Then that is what it is…also to reference Bojana…she convinced me that once I write something and publish it, that it no longer belongs to me, but to the reader. So Velveteen Rabbit it is.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That is something I love about all art; I am always interested in what my writing means to the reader, what chord it strikes for them. We all bring our own experiences to the art we interact with. It is part of the beauty of it.
LikeLiked by 1 person