Albums & albums past
Monochrome showers and beads of gray dominate what once belonged to the Variegation. These days endure the rusted swings that neither sway nor create. In the colorless grassland, each foot trudges reluctantly by in hopes of disentangling the pilgrim’s plight.
It is a presence that is haunted by an inspired past - invigorating and poetic. It is a procession towards a frightening reality - a disagreeable existence, a life unwished for. It is the page in your calendar that is left both bare and forgotten.
Blinded by the dust-covered glass that is, neither translucent nor transparent, an odd comparison to former compositions it most certainly is. You wonder what has become of such a glorious beginning to only realize that it is not in the questioning but in the resolving that will regain your melody.
An old Polaroid is what has become of you. Photographs are neither as polished nor as vivid as creations of those born after your day. Yet, you fail to realize that it is not in the camera nor in the model that defines your core - your quintessence.
With your coal-marked hands, you search, because there is hope.
It is no legend, no myth;
It is possibility and prospect.
And finally your willpower and intensity have regained the momentum. And the resonance of the colors that play invigorates forgotten zeal and passion. In your veins, it flows profusely in its return to your center.
It is here; it is now.
You are new, and you have won.