The Blank Canvas
I am the silence, the unwritten snow,
A patient void where future forests grow.
Within my four white corners, worlds convene,
The as-yet-empty cradle of the scene.
I am the whisper of the world to be,
A boundless, waiting possibility.
I watch the brush reach, a hesitant dove,
And greet the first faint touch of light and love.
The pigment spreads, a river finding shore,
Revealing life where there was none before.
A mountain peaks, a sky begins to gleam,
The sweet birth of a painter and their dream.
I drink the sapphire blue, the scarlet fire,
And rise to meet the artist's deep desire.
No longer blank, but breathing, rich, and wide,
A universe where stories can reside.
The silence shatters in color and sound,
And in my corners, a whole world is found.
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