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“This hand, it is mine, yet when I pick up a pencil it has a mind of its own. It has a story to draw, beating the breath of life through its lines and shapes, across the wide, open paper. If I just attune myself to the unravelling melody, I know I will be able to take that journey and heal the torn, aching world.” — Susan L. Marshall
This hand, it is mine,
yet when I pick up a pencil
it has a mind of its own.
It has a story to draw,
beating the breath of life
through its lines and shapes,
across the wide, open paper.
If I just attune myself
to the unravelling melody,
I know I will be able to take that journey
and heal the torn, aching world.