Paint drips, little colored droplets,

Snakes through cemented cracks,

Bare walls expose fissures,

Want paint, call out for color,

Empty whites, listless –

Fade into dying grays,

Canvas, empty, desperate

Grabs for color to fill itself,

As pleasure and lust seekers

Looking to fulfill themselves.

Easel rests, brush thistles,

Stand ready in anticipation,

Moistened, await eagerly –

Stroking, swaying, rapid

Paint thrown in air,

Racing towards their empty canvas

Creating changing images

Multi-colored aura borealis in air.

Canvas changes continuously

Never stops, never waits.

Like time, collects moments, memories

Stacked neatly against each other.

Paint drips – in midair,

Brush thistles lay moist, Carry –

Reminders of a past morning Sun

And nighttime moonlit reminiscing

Happiness, pain and Loneliness,

Mixed together in an empty canvas,

Stacked neatly against each other.

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