Poetic Rapture
From the silence before the first breath, the field begins to stir. An energy moves the brush, it dips into the ink….
Color rises through the paper’s skin—ochre, ash, copper—
the world whispering itself into being.
Creases in the handmade surface open like the memory of steely mountains with the summit in clouds
and a sun of molten grace hovering between birth and return.
This is not depiction but emergence.
Emptiness dreams, and in its dreaming, form awakens.
Each brushstroke is a threshold, each shimmer of ink, a pulse
where the invisible crosses into visibility.
Here dwells the Shekinah—
the indwelling radiance of light—the breath of the divine—
moving between imagination and implementation,
the liminal force that joins what is becoming to what has not yet been.
She is energy made visible: the tremor of light within matter,
the energy between pigment and hand,
the silent grammar through which the cosmos utters itself anew.
Ch’an Buddhism would name it emptiness as generativity—
the earth’s own consciousness folding and unfolding through breath.
Jung would see the psyche dreaming its symbols into matter.
And Adorno, standing in this stillness, would hear
the truth that refuses identity:
art as the reconciliation of world and spirit,
matter and meaning,
where we, too, are momentarily restored—
breathed into being by the same luminous silence
that moves through Shekinah’s infinite return.
Art by Kate W 
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