The Rising Nature sleeps and Nature yearns, Days pass and the world turns. Animals wake and loose their cries, Of days long past and untamed skies. The Wilds rise and begin to roar, To storm this world like never before.

You You are my light, my joy, my very existence. You are so many things I can't put into a sentence.

Nature's Glory We stood in dense forests, We listened to the ocean, We talked with the mountains, And gave our devotion. We flew from tall cliff-tops, We crawled through deep caves, We swam up mighty rivers, And marked ancients' graves. We watched the morning Sun, We howled under the Moon, We played in the twilight, As #life ends too soon.

Sparks Imagination is only the spark on the anvil of creation. Diligent work is the hammer that pounds and shapes that spark into something extraordinary.

Peace In the act of creating something, the artist often leaves a part of themselves behind. It is the part of their mind that is in turmoil, the part that craves to create. Once creation is complete there is peace in the artist's mind and soul. And yet, already the artist looks forward to the next creation. For peace is but fleeting, as the turmoil of creation is the pounding of waves: one after the other in perpetuity.