“Art is the conversation between lovers. Art offers an opening for the heart. True art makes the divine silence in the soul break into applause.”—Hafez
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They walked together in the open blue, winter sky of silver sun whose light reflected white over lawn and spread of snow. Upon the trails, footsteps showed, but the open of lawn was free, sun-melted and smooth from many days and equal nights of sun-thawed melt and night’s freezing back again, smoother, cleaner, more perfect over face.
They walked on the trails, and too in the open space leaving proof of made-willed path, smiling on the trail that would last as long as the snow remained.
They walked to the gallery, face of gray that in silver sun shone still in light-struck radiance; beside the shuttle cock stuck and landed in the snow; through the sculputured garden that reminded them of the White Witch of Narnia, having frozen those opposed in forever stone.
They wrote stories in their mind, some spoken and shared, others retained within; and when they went indoors, they traveled the world and histories of man with open minds and eyes.
They found their beauties—some shared, and some seen different; but by sharing and speaking, aiding eyes of other in see of their own witness, they learned each other more.
A conversation of love, an action of same in openness of love-winter where life slowed and stilled and blossomed in its own way.
After day, they returned to home; minds and hearts whole opened by all they’d seen and shared. In the openness, spirit’s converse, they spoke and offered on. True art’s make—body and spirit—first in the silence, focus of awe, into raise and break of soul’s applause.
Lying after, touching and gentle-tracing over bodies, stares of eyes, soft voiced sighs and kisses of equal-gentle; art and conversation stayed speaking love from opened hearts, signed language, handwritten, in fingered tracing’s spell.