There is nothing on earth more giving, forgiving and comforting than trees. Mother, Nourisher, and Keeper – trees are our faith in life, the life we breathe, the life we need, and the love we feel.
Parched in Plenty – Oil on Canvas
Parched in Plenty grew out of its own free will, on my barren landscape – the blank canvas.
Today, a dead tree was born in a peaceful forest against the balmy sky. A silent silhouette grew midst hurried strokes of verdant green and turquoise blues.
Though the painting was done now, its seed was sown centuries back. The plumule rose in poise to become my parent, friend, and healer.
Food for my body to refuge to my soul… the tree gave me all that I ever needed. Today, the lone tree stands on the brink of time – tall, stoic and unbowed.
Against the problem of plenty stands this lone tree.
My tree.
The one who held me for eternity.
Is it alone, desolate or merry?
Alive, half dead, or living within?
Who can tell?
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Who knows the musings of the Tree better than you or I?
Our first love is Nature.
Beautiful colors, calm yet tethering on some strange mystery. How did you feel when you painted this?
Love
Beautiful…..lovely life …”a dead tree was born” nostaligic way to put it…. I randomly jumped into your blog seeing Ganapathi’s comment on your painting in his blog MSA… and wonderful. Are you a painter or a poet,…may be above all, a human being who can weave threads with words….keep it up.
I love it very much and am pleased to re-visit your blog, from which I learned a lot of knowledge, and totally agree with your point of view, I hope you can be the exhibitions, once again thank you for sharing such a wonderful text. I will wait to see what’s! Thank you!
Very happy to see your article, I very much to like and agree with your point of view. Thank you for sharing. At the same time,i love very much.
Welcome to look at my website and blog articles.Hope we can become good friends, and exchange and to help each other! Thanks!!
Few lines from my recent poem…’ Green Saints’ which refers to Trees, of course.
‘They move like saints, bleeding feet, smiling,
Peace is not a mission, but a prehistoric foot print,
Where others can walk and discover,
Their ‘sin’.- Ansul /Ruh-Aatish
Your surreal painting reminded me of this…the colors are deeply spiritual.
Keep your soul alight always…
Peace,
Ansul
“They move like saints, bleeding feet, smiling,”
Beautiful Mystic. Thank you so much for your soul words.
The tree stands tall and strong…lovely words…
Beautiful…! Your words struck somewhere deep within… bringing tears to my eyes.
Iniyaal,
If trees could speak…. we wont have a face to show.
It always is, isnt it? So much around… but no words to speak.
Maybe thats the human limitation.
….. it was too much to write…..~~!