<p>In the quiet of winter 2014, I found myself imagining what it might feel like to walk toward Nirvana — not as a distant place, but as a state of being. From that meditation emerged <em>Reflections of Nirvana</em> — a digital painting born of silence, vision, and soul.</p><p>A snow-covered path. Bare trees. A still lake reflecting not just the sky — but something beyond.</p><p>When I placed this piece on the front panel of my Essence of Laurel art booth, it became a silent invitation. People would pause, drawn into its serenity. Some saw an angel. Others, a portal. One person even found the word <em>Love</em> hidden within the image. None of those elements were placed there intentionally — and yet, all of them were true.</p><p>Art is not static. It breathes. It mirrors. It becomes what the viewer brings to it.</p><h2>Reflections of Nirvana</h2><p>In the hush of winter&rsquo;s breath, a stillness calls my name.<br/>Not a place, but a presence —<br/>a soft remembering flame.</p><p>The path is veiled in silver light,<br/>where branches sketch the sky,<br/>and mirrored in the silent lake<br/>the soul learns how to fly.</p><p>Each ripple hums a sacred chord,<br/>each curve — a tender prayer,<br/>as trees exchange their earthly roots<br/>for whispers in the air.</p><p>No angel stands upon this shore,<br/>no portal marked by sign,<br/>and yet within the painted calm<br/>the Infinite aligns.</p><p>I walk between what was and is,<br/>through wonder&rsquo;s quiet door,<br/>and find that I&rsquo;ve been here before —<br/>and will be evermore.</p><p style='font-style:italic;'>Laurel D. Rund</p>