I Wait For Some Kind Of Sign (A painting at 3:47 AM)
It was late. I mean real late. Like 3:47 AM kind of late. The morning alarm was less than 4 hours away and I was at the desk pushing the paints and there was no sign laying down the brushes and packing it in. Like most insomniacs, I was just getting started, I suppose. The best ideas and best words and most peaceful moments all come when the rest of the world is sleeping. Maybe it is that simple idea that keeps me awake. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm leading myself astray at the times. I will walk out into the yard at these hours and look up and down the street and hope to see some kind of sign that there is someone else at that moment that shares this idea. It never happens. I listen to the silence for a moment, then always walk back in and sit back in front of the paints and push them around until they speak to me no more and the room goes dark.