Winter Garden

by Vincent D’Onofrio & Laurence Fuller

Why is it that we talk to strangers?

Laurence Garden Cinematic

Cinematic Portrait by Graphite Method (Laurence Fuller & Vincent D’Onofrio)

HOPE THIS FINDS YOU WELL
I hope this finds you well;
I wonder where the wind has taken you,
I asked the fish in the garden,
I couldn’t hear what they said,
So I stepped in the water,
It was so cold.
At first they swam away,
But the longer I stayed,
I heard their whispers,
They saw we had in common, the strength to realize from the winter without, triumphs within,
Perhaps the falling leaves don’t just make the branches bare ~ but show their true beauty beneath,
As time shakes away the fabrics we wrap ourselves in.
The odalisques and heroes are unveiled
The winter moon lights up everything from the inside,
Like a peculiar vector from the soul to the eyes, hands, breathe,
The grace of writhing branches,
owls eyes and frosted clouds
Work in tandem with the sky
I’ve noticed the nights are getting colder
And the moon getting older
Barely perceptible, but for the extra shadows making our days more precious.
The fading light of beauty in the looming shadows of technology.
I know you feel it too, there’s something we must never let go ~ as our world changes, speeds on to a greatness
outside of ourselves
Like Prometheus, this gift of fire will consume us too, if we do not cherish sentiment.
The intuition we’ve been given, thought, feeling, perception, memory ~ a vast sea that wades inside of us.
And we stand at its shore plucking gifts from the harbor.
Family’s bound by customs and tradition.
It’s best to follow your intuition.
Only we know that which grows from within, from the seeds we sow.
Pearls start to unfold out of shells as you pick them up and wrap around your wrists.
As hummingbirds rest on the lips of an iris
It’s kiss lost in time
Parts of us are gated behind a moat with a rusty iron guard ~ he’s still there but he lets some past.
I told him about our conversations at the Umbrella bar.
Cracked and faded chess pieces dried out on the window’s mantle
Who are they for?
What fingers moved them on the board,
Winter finds in wooden corners,
Heaven’s clippings on the floor,
From wings that once did soar.
I know you’ll embrace the unknown as I do,
There’s so much mystery to how each day unfolds.
Here’s a little poem I’ve been thinking about.
~ Laurence Fuller

Original poetry written & performed by Laurence Fuller