Poetry: Ron Peat

Poetry: Francine Dvoracek

 

 

Song of My Hand

My hand upon the brush
Weaves a melody within a dream:
Deep iin space yet flat,
Motionless in time yet flowing,
Solid in form yet vibrating,
Bursting with energy yet calm.
While I in my own true fog
Find confusion in all being one
Yet divided among so many.