Palette: the Mist of Now

Awash in an in between

where everything seems foggy

 yet somehow painfully clear

time stopped as she sat

breathing, took little more than a nod

vision unnecessary 

yet there. 

The world had died 

yet this is what living on must be?

A fleeting thought then a floating nothing.

"How strange" she did swear

wondering if quenching her thirst

might bring her back into the world

or at least the world back from its grave.

She reaches over to shift the sound to a musical flow

but she does not know what more to do to make things

fantasy rather than the reality that they now appeared 

surrounding her on all fronts so that there was no edge.

Her unfixed gaze suddenly lands upon blades

of a plant that stands off in another room

barely within the last view.

That breaks the silence of the present 

to fling her into the corners of the 

places easily judged yesterday and tomorrow

forgetting that only now is real.  

Now gone and memories simply little wisps of clouds.  

There was a feeling inside that presence

that left her knowing that only in imaginations

pretending that is how things are

can anyone be certain that they have made themselves 

beyond much of anything

other than the stars.

You cannot get rich being an artist

but you certainly can go acceptably mad 

and be deemed somehow eccentric in 

an odd sort of genius unacknowledged til dead.

She thus retreats to do another self portrait 

probably considered bizarre but for the few

who really understood.

Those few ~ gone and un named too.

~byKateyB