Life is a picture
History awaits for it's train to the past.
The future awaits for it's train to the present.
History blows a kiss of comforting memories.
You linger on to History,
Yet History is quick to board his train.
It's time to depart.
The stage is set.
The crowd awaits your choice.
You stand in anticipation with your paintbrush.
As the curtain drops, a blank canvas appears in front of you.
The future cheers you on.
You cannot expect a person to reveal their true colors until you give them the colors to paint to the picture.
What was once black, white and familiar,
Now purple, orange and forgerin.
The kiss of History now plagues your heart like lcotus that ruins a haverst of good fruit.
Do you consider your "art" wonders to your llusion or distrous to your reality.
A picture usually worth a thousands words,
Now only worth 1 question.
" are you an artist of your misconception of your illusion or merely a witness to the disappointment of each painting you find?"
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