i begin to look anew. 
i paint a vision of what i think might be the sun. 
reality fails me: i do not know if i capture this in my dream-state,
because when i look at the sun i am blinded by white  light shining 
and when i breathe the sun i am full of such brilliance that i cannot imagine anything physical. 
i am barren, all is meaningless. 
when i know that i cannot in any human way reproduce this, i no longer try. 
i try only to look for the sun in another way.  and make another painting holding the grace i have seen.