Strolling the galleries,
perusing avant-garde
tapestries and
surrealist tableaus,
One-man shows.
Providing me
alternative perspectives
on my personal
semblance of reality.
That which I create
differing from
that which you see.
Seeds planted in
our imaginations
nurtured until
their germinations
take root
in fertile soul.
Sprouting from the
wellspring of their
abstract minds
into the light
and climb the vine.
From that fiber
cloth spun on looms
woven into
aesthetic blooms.
The visions speaking
so loudly
I cannot help but
hear it.
My eyes harvest
their beauty
to decorate my spirit.

M. Zane McClellan

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