Life's Composition
Every morn, I wake to a blank page -
A canvas, on which I paint
Today
I often revisit past illustrations;
Some statuesque,
and others with rips, tears, and folds;
"Okay" at best
Yet as the sun rose Today,
I did not hearken back
nor begin the day’s depiction;
I turned to the future and wondered:
What will be written?
Rather, what will I write?
Forced to ask my reflection
what he wanted in his
Big Picture
I hoped to mimic his vision wholly
Without much stricture
Does he want uniqueness?
With splashes of vivacious colors
to strike society speechless?
Or just a camouflage to hide his weakness?
Maybe he wants a replica;
a proven success.
Tracing another’s outline,
not self-expressed.
He certainly won’t want a still life!
He’s destined to incite change;
That’s how he’ll fulfill life,
and how he’ll fill that page.
Gazing into this mirror -
into my eyes and my mind -
I find a cloud, nothing clearer
No exact path to which I’ll bind.
For I am no omniscient being,
as this blank page can attest...
I want to help.
I want to hope.
To show love to all life
through an optimistic scope.
I am no omniscient being,
as this blank page can attest.
But one thing is definite:
I’ll enjoy life’s quest.
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