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THE CANVAS
And his life started all over again,
His essence turned pure,
His thoughts vacant -
The canvas was white…
A player of colors he was -
A painter,
Best of the best.
His brushes moved like performers in an arena;
Hues dancing around,
Merging to render his thoughts,
The deepest of his emotions
Portrayed by the blues and the greens.
And they turned into the shades of red one day:
The spark, the passionate zeal -
The soulful blaze;
Flying unto a bottomless mystique,
A changing kaleidoscope of emotions,
Reaching its peak,
Bursting into a culmination…
And his existence started-
All over again;
His essence turned pure,
His thoughts vacant -
And the canvas was white.
