The Journey of The Heart

I am very excited to present my acrylic and watercolor painting:

 The Journey of The Heart

It is now displayed and for sell at Intermezzo Gallery in www.intermezzogallery.com

Re-Birth

The hoarse voice broke through the silence that had gathered, crumbling over the dusty bookshelves and dresser backs. It was the first time in years that the sound within had shifted. 

The door had cracked.

A scarlet line dripped down the corset she had worn on the day that she sealed the door shut, locking herself in. Untouched by the ferocious, roaring lion outside, she had bled. Now the blood is rust upon her back, a stain from years of betrayal. You see, rust only grows on things that feel forgotten. 

The voice cracked.

She had heard him before. Once. "Lies. All that He had said. All lies", she hissed. Betrayal had become a rabid beast within her. Drawing from her hind legs, she intended to kill. Her brokenness, her tower had not made her weak. No, it had made her strong. It had made her bold. It had made her into a beast. She lunged across the room. 

The floor cracked.

Wood splintering into particles of dust, and falling. God-forbidden sunlight breaking through. She roared. She screamed. Her brokenness was only beginning. The wood panels split open beneath her soft, pink feet. 

The Sun cracked.

"What have you done?" She screamed. "What have you done to me?" The light blinded her eyes. She flailed; weak, pink, soft, a naked child, falling into the arms of the sunlight. Her skin was ripping apart. The sun was cracking through it. Soon there would be nothing left. 

"It is not what I have done, but what you have done to yourself." The voice replied, now solid and smooth. 

She cracked. 

She knew that the lies she had believed were truth and the truths she had loved were lies. He had been right. All along. And now he was the light tearing her to pieces, making her new; Her Father, bringing re-birth.

She opened the door.

Lost Again

By Nakita Bickle

Everyone is gone now

And you sit there

Alone

In the dark.

You can feel yourself sinking, slipping,

It's 2 a.m. and you're slipping away.

"Don't let go," you tremble,

"Don't lose yourself again."

But your soul is a beast

Pulling away from your body 

Falling into the night

And you have to let go

You have to slip.

Your soul wasn't created

to be controlled.

It's something wild

Made to be set free.

So you lose yourself again.