A blank canvas, waiting to be filled.
Then bursts of color, bright and carefree
Slowly become more deliberate.

Yellows and pinks and greens
Splattered on the canvas become
Straight, rigid, and disciplined.

They swirl together, colors mixing;
Bright pastels become bold reds, yellows, blues,
And shapes start to emerge, geometrics…

A mistake, a black streak through the center,
But paint cannot be erased,
Only painted over with something heavy.

Basic colors change to dark gothics
In time, starting from the corners,
But never poisoning the center.

Painted over with fake brights once again,
But these are different strokes than the first.
Influence is changing the emotion.

Layers are thick, adding dimension by now
Pastels can’t be seen; brights murky
Original colors hard to find.

But the brush still works on…
Hard work takes over the canvas,
Detail and rigid shapes dominate.

Until tragedy takes over the slate.
Colors blur downwards, blue
Mixes in and drips onto the floor.

But green quickly follows, turns
Paint swirls into the earth
And light brightens once again.

Paint dries as life settles;
The marbled texture hardening
Right in front of our eyes.

And normalcy reappears
Brush strokes calm and even,
Repeating day after day.

When suddenly it all stops
Many years later.
And strokes become relaxed

Grays and whites mix with brights;
Joy comes to life for the first time
Since the beginning.

Time passes by the same way,
Until expectancy is injected into the paint
And strokes feel restricted.

A bright cloud of yellow and white,
Until finally the painter
Veils the canvas with the black cloth.