Chasing the past and nourishing sorrow
Tainting the dyes of today and tomorrow
Shaking a fist at a canvas so bare
Eyes will not hear and ears will not stare
Taking the brush and preparing a stroke
Hoping a thought will inspire and evoke
Random thoughts in orderly fashion
Causing such a strange reaction…
When stopping the paint from touching the surface
One might question the meaning of purpose
Would it be good to compose after gripe?
Will skeletons surface with each colored swipe?
Will former hauntings corrupt and skew?
Will healing wounds be opened anew?
Coming to terms with divine inspiration
Realizing we need to spend our duration
To clean off the slate and shake off the dust
Refine the positive and accept the rust
With affirmation and finally moving
Truths accepting and lies disproving
With cautious abandon and doubts dissipated
A mosaic of hues and shades are created…