The Day the Boy Became an Artist

At long last the stinging salt spray

That had carried singing upon the wind abated

Leaving an extraordinary clarity in its wake

It was as though the gift of sight had been given to me for the very first time

Translucent waves, green through green washed time away

With each tide that ebbed and flowed

It had blessed the last boy on earth with vision

Within the boy it had forged depths of renewed magnitude

Where once only solitary dimension existed

It had stroked unimaginable colours, rare exhilarating definition

Imagery where once only discarded memories endured

My last days as a boy would be close to this shingle path

Leading me up from the golden stony shoreline of Gurnard Bay

As the blinding wind whipped stealing my smile

I heard myself say ‘I am home at last’

During the days and weeks that followed

My world began filling with extraordinary colours

Vivid swirling flashes of creative inspiration welled up from within

Leaving me shaking and breathless

A determination, a passion to paint and write, filled my every moment

I awoke still tired from dreaming out loud from my wide-awake sleep

An infinity of colour a myriad of fleeting brilliant lightmares

That began and ended with the voices in my head

They accompanied my every brush stroke

Reading aloud every word that I had written