From the time of our first breath…from the moment our life starts

we begin creating, until we die, an unfinished work of art.


Some days we are an artist…we wake up and set our sights

on painting with broad brush strokes in colors bold and bright…


Some days we are a sculptor… hoping at the end of that day

after chiseling, carving and smoothing…we are happy with our clay.


Some days we are a composer…searching for the notes that will add harmony

to the notes already written in our life-long symphony.  


Sometimes we are a a writer…seeking the right words…perhaps an allegory

that when mixed with previous words add beauty to our story….


Sometimes we control the brush, the clay the pen…other times we’re waiting

for friends and family to add their colors…to the artwork we’re creating.


And when we stop to look…when each day comes to an end

we notice subtle differences as all our different styles blend.


I wonder sometimes if that’s not why we sleep…if that isn’t the reason why?

so at the end or every day whatever medium we were workin in

has the night in which to dry.


So when we wake up the next morning…no matter where or when

we are refreshed…and we are ready…to begin creating again


Ready to add paints or clay or words or notes…looking for emotion, soul…and heart

to an ever-changing…never-ending…unfinished work of art…


And if we’re blessed the final result each day…has captured our hopes our joy our fears


as slowly, imperceptibly we become more beautiful each year.

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