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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.

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I am

Kelly Clark

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I am

a rollicking ocean, far reaching as the eye can see

salt-stained, light-catching, surf-crashing

tectonic plates shifting, rupturing, pressure I never meant to release seeping out

volcanos can not be soothed with pets and pretty words

trust me, I know.  I've tried. 

I am

the sheen of rippling glass reflecting back depths

home to the host of teeming life

the great beast with heartbreaking beauty and bloody jaws, defying gravity, ten tons moving with rendered grace

colors, quarks, the charmed and the frightful, moving in one great life-cycle, birthing and living and devouring and birthing each other once again

sometimes the grandness of life steals the breath away.

I am

the soft roar and penetrating whisper

expanding in open valleys and rushing over mountaintops

a thing no easier to catch than wind, no less present that air

thinner than bone and full as the sea

riddles of sinew and memory entwine whether listened to or not

this path is ever peppered with light and dark, ease and ache, joy and sorrow

Today I chose to walk it.

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