All that I see.

All that I see. 

Another restless night I’ve been, 
Filled with things that I have seen.
Crazy thoughts or lucid dream.
Noise so loud I wake and scream.
I write it down nothing to lose.
The brightest colours and vivid hues.
Bright lights and beings visit me, 
They are just some of what I see.
And as I am brought back awake,
with buzzing nerves that start to shake.
I wonder was it all a dream, 
The lifelike things that I have seen.
The noises I heard inside my head, 
That seemed so loud there in my bed. 
Light so bright moving through, 
Not just white, red and orange too,
Green and violet and brightest blue.
Would you believe if I told you?
Sometimes swirling it will surround, 
Lands like a blanket on the ground.
But its not grounded its over me, 
Leaves me questioning my sanity.
Bathed in an ethereal glow, 
I look for light at my window.
Unsure of this blessing or a curse,
I wake to write it down in verse.
As the words come back to me, 
Of all the things that I see.
Arms hug tightly that they bind, 
The restless things there in my mind.
The pounding chest which starts to heave, 
Strange people and things up and leave.
There are beings I’ve not seen before, 
You sometimes read of in folklore.
When I awake and my limbs freeze, 
A silent image, a glimpse, a tease.
Then I awake with a start and its gone, 
where the brightest light there once shone.
More than once I’ve felt abused. 
Which left me angry and confused.
Sometimes it scares me half to death, 
And I wake fighting for my breath.
Or send it packing with a shout, 
Ask the unknown what it’s all about.
But sometimes the answer won’t come to me, 
About the things that I can see.

This image is the feminine version of the masculine I saw in a dream. It came to me and with one bright blue and a bright white Iight in his other eye came right up close to me and looked straight into mine. He looked curious about something, his head on one side. It unnerved me and I awoke, questioning and asking what that was about.  He gave me a name, I am none the wiser at this point as to why.  I felt inclined to draw the face that I saw, although I am not sure that I can do it justice my brief sketch is below. But he was almost like faerie like or elfin both in movement and stature.

The next day I saw this wonderful feminine image and was so drawn to it with the same face and now I am also curious.

Christina Smith the artist is located in Wimborne, Dorset and creates these wonderful talking sticks from cold clay and driftwood, making unique and very beautiful pieces of art. Find her on her Facebook page Ferae Naturae or via her webpage. www.spiritofthetrees.biz

Christina has very kindly given her permission for me to use the images for this beautiful piece of artwork to share with you.

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byIndiaBlue

India Blue is a creative person, who enjoys writing, photography and artwork in this blog. All creative content unless credited elsewhere within is that of the Author and remains the copyright of IndiaBlue.co.uk

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