fire in the heart

Désir by Sarah Fecteau
On the tiptoes, slyly, without looking back but just scrolling down
you’re going forward through one diaphanous steam.
The breath, the eyelids are wrapped up like at the beginning
of the world without having burdens, without nothing but just
moving ahead guided by the purity of light in pictures of any day.
The paintings are shaped with sounds. The brush
seems more that’s comforting us rather than giving us colors…
playing so tenderly with us, with a thin fog, with steam,
with a black and white, where time doesn’t exist
in the morning galaxy, but just a 6 am & do it again instrumented
with the fire in the heart in an equitable tint of the transparency.
On the tiptoes, slyly, to not shaking life, we look to find ourself
for not to waste a classy love under a deep feeling that unfolds
without being rather than be in waiting for falling stars,
for making happen, for taking a fragment, which even if is there,
it’s perfect for being held, and it looks almost like a happy time
that was and with another one what’s to come and that
kind of brush named love… a majestic brush that comes
to bring us light to remove the shadows and to teach us about us
and about the mastery of love letting us understand its colors…
On the tiptoes, slyly, we’re moving ahead to not break anything
from what it was not, but it will be about this faultless love of us…

un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎
subject, — Désir • #art by Sarah Fecteau

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