Propelling Being

 

Believing is seeing myself breathing the propellers wind. 

Intending it to be and willing it tilling it I send. 

Believing is seeing myself in the engine I do,

For here I go into imagination thinking myself being loved by you. 

In my heart and of the play,

Painting beautiful pictures in means and ways. 

For my sight to be seeing is believing come true.

A wake to the light, 

Oh how lucky is me you 

For lovingly being art baby blue. 

Believing is seeing—propellers spin,

Carrying wind from breath within.

A force unseen, yet willing and true,

Tilling the sky, forging through.

Believing is seeing—I am the light,

A whispering thought turning into might.

The engine hums, the dreaming picture ignites,

Imagination shaping forming heights.

For in my heart, this play is real,

A love appeal, a joy to feel.

Brushing my canvas, appreciating the view,

A vision alive, a soul reborn.

Awake the light, my dream comes true,

Oh, how lucky I am for you loving me through.

I thy sky-born spark sparking —Art Baby —Blue.