A white canvass ...
full of promises
and yet all empty.
Even its borders
are not really defined -
the white wall expanding it to eternity.
With a golden path
leading the artist
up to the work still to be completed.
As colours, and form
express our fears, desires and hopes
so do words.
Like leaves floating on air
they are valuable, beautiful
if captured and cared for.
Respect means not to,
... often enough, and
love means to ... always.
The path the brush takes
across the white fields
determines its desitiny.
It is but a moment in time
so quickly passing
and then she is gone.
A courageous stroke of the pen
and although not yet aligned
the form is already there.
For the true artists eye
to see, lingering and verberating -
to be completed.
