art is so many parts of the cakras
divine colours breathing through selves
locked in a painting every colour works
to soul up the images loosened
and patched over a field of creativity

we thought we have only one, two or three selves
until they all come knocking at the intelligence
like an alcoholic pining for the sip of his day;
every shade fills up an emptiness struggling to breathe,
a magic wand enlivening the senses