Transition from the idealism of impetuous youth, To repetitive mundaneness & humdrum of here,
Like passing of lively spring into the forlorn winter, Time moves on, all seasons lie between somewhere,
Her voice often sought serenity in all the madness, To slowly turn to that could make her life sublime,
Capture the oft disappearing nature in her canvas, Notice the fine details & stay present in that time,
Why not do things that bring emotional expression, Ease the nervous system and offer a sense of peace,
Find beauty in solitude and learn to indulge oneself, Mindful & yet slowing down on what’s blank space,
Long, long before her, great artists mastered this art, Painting in truth can be a meditative creative niche,
Flowing movement of paint and soft organic shapes, Channels feelings to focus on creating a masterpiece,
If big monuments abound, what beauty can one paint, But if the myriad colors and fine shapes are captured,
It deepens our love for the natural world & its cycles, Flowers offer rich, saturated colors and diverse forms
That to her – make each brushstroke feel rewarded !
Somnath (For Tandra Sinha)
