Fingers covered in cool, fluid paint.
Each stroke has something to say.
Soft, gentle caresses,
Forceful jabs at the surface.
Timid movements,
Bold, sweeping gestures.
Gazing at each layer.
Wondering,
Questioning,
Asking for guidance.
What are you trying to say?
What do you want to express?
How can I give you what you need?
Listening.
Hearing.
Understanding from the depths of my soul.
Seeing the truth emerge.
Giving voice to what was once a faint whisper.
Breathing life into buried thoughts.
Creating what was previously only a dream.
Feeling the connection.
Knowing its bigger than just me.
There's an energy,
A force,
A creative flow that carries me away,
Bringing me closer to myself.
Closer to my source.
I leave my fingerprint in the paint,
As a record of my existence.
As a signature from my physical form.
It is the key that unlocks the mystery.
It is the code that reminds me what is real.
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