AURORA’S BEARER
Quis U.
A Canvas, Acrylic Paints, and Brushes
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First, I saw the cold fog lurking on the edge of all Hallows eve. The frost chilled my skin, but the gears of the clockwork of my mind were turning and the furnace of imagination burning. I have always liked the stories of old, tales of heroes and heroines that were told to me when I was young. I was never usually in a lack of creative thought, till my mind wandered for these past few months. Till the winter touched my skin once more, and now I attempt to paint what I see. I see a man holding a staff high to the new night sky. As the wind passes by, he ignites a light within the staff’s core which lifts up to challenge the stars that glow above. A show of light, from a servant of the light. One that all passersby’s remember, his name, Aurora’s Bearer.
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Creativity is what it is, a bloom of finite dreams and wishes of its creator. The stroke of the pencil could mean the creation of what something could be through a sketch and the stroke of a brush sparks the waltz of the eyes as it traces the color.