I thrive not in the limits of the blinding light, mine is a world of solace from the bright.
I dwell in the transition where gentle textures succumb to lubricious blacks, purveying the world through what it lacks.
I am a humble follower of the simple way,
that bides his time in images by day,
I sing within that lyric latent light,
with silent secret scrawling that mars and scars the unrepentant page by night.
You are that unknowable muse who, despite that you refuse, are translucent as the dream that makes life somehow seem…
…intractable as the dawn.
Though we may dance and you may be my concubine queen; I am your humble pawn.
We are what could not be and yet somehow had become,
regardless of when or how it was or was not done.
Ours is not the solace from outside pain or derision ,
but a quiet sensual embracing of life’s subtle but visceral victuals of vision.
SMC via Silent Soliloquy 2016. All words and imagery copyright, All Rights Reserved, SMC (AKA Silent Soliloquy)