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.