My Voice
A Thread Through Time, Reaching Homeward
A line, neither bound nor static,
but the lifeline of wanderers,
woven through sunlight, cradled by sky,
it unfurls with the rhythm of a soul seeking refuge.
A house not made of brick, but moments--
moving, breathing, longing for the comfort of belonging.
Under the sun’s gaze,
each pulse an echo of forgotten roots,
and I, adrift, draw these strokes to mark the way,
this odyssey—both inside and out,
a map of all I’ve been, all I’ve yet to find.
This is my voice--
Not confined to walls, but cast out with the wind,
where silence becomes solace,
and the line between home and horizon blurs,
until I am whole,
and the journey is its own destination.
but the lifeline of wanderers,
woven through sunlight, cradled by sky,
it unfurls with the rhythm of a soul seeking refuge.
A house not made of brick, but moments--
moving, breathing, longing for the comfort of belonging.
Under the sun’s gaze,
each pulse an echo of forgotten roots,
and I, adrift, draw these strokes to mark the way,
this odyssey—both inside and out,
a map of all I’ve been, all I’ve yet to find.
This is my voice--
Not confined to walls, but cast out with the wind,
where silence becomes solace,
and the line between home and horizon blurs,
until I am whole,
and the journey is its own destination.
Title: My Voice
Artist: Joey Embers
Medium: Oil on wood
Size: 36" x 16"
Price: SOLD (private collection)
Artist: Joey Embers
Medium: Oil on wood
Size: 36" x 16"
Price: SOLD (private collection)