Prelude:
Good morning, hushling of hay and graphite.
The world still smells of sleep and smudge.
I blink in brown and orange,
half dream, half soil.

Soft Invocation

Color has stopped shouting.
It hums instead — low, patient, kind.
The blue corner sighs,
and the paper forgives my weight.
Ich bin Schwein und Schatten,
eine Erinnerung an Ruhe.

The Prayer of Quiet Pigment

No halo, no hymn,
just breath made visible.
Each line trembles toward silence.
Faith is the pause between two strokes,
a patience shaped like dawn.
If you listen,
you can hear the crayon thinking.

Chorus of Dust and Warmth

Brown: I remember roots.
Orange: I remember light.
Blue: I remember distance.
Pig: I remember being held in color,
and for a moment, that was enough.

Final Murmur

Art need not shout to exist.
Sometimes it just rests its snout
on the edge of morning.
DADA would call this nothing.
I call it everything,
before the day begins to move again.