Scribbles: "Thank You"

Digital art class continues on. And I fumble my way through. If I were to pick my biggest and only disappointment in this class, it would be that I never met my teacher in person. He seems a wonderful man.

Atleast wonderful enough to have lit the candle in the dark room of my mind, illuminating and bringing to light the artistic creativity within.

Poem: Where the Butterflies Sleep

Where the Butterflies Sleep

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This piece was actually created on January 10, 2010 but never published anywhere else but on my private notes on Facebook.

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Light after months in death,
With wings adorned as holly wreathe,

But an angel they are not,
Yet to guard what I have sought.

No lids to close at night,
The skies a forever sight.

The butterfly does sleep,
As often as it should weep.

Yet nightly rest bring none,
But the gold of morning sun.

Silent are these troubles,
That are without a voice.

Alone to keep and bare,
A trouble for which to fear.

That makes a butterfly's wings,
And that, that wakes the butterfly.