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.