The Canvas

My mind is dancing with joy of oblivion;
An endless landscape to traverse.
Enigmatic colors both awful and awesome
fill the palette and my brush is not ready.
For it is held in hand still shaking.

The canvas is blank the colors await their place
I scream; but my call is taken to the winds
of an unfinished horizonless realm.
One that I don't want to see.
One that haunts me with all it's ambient memories.

My eyes; window to my sanctuary,
open and reflect the dark void;
the bottomless well that is the pit of my soul.

And the canvas remains untouched.

Rivers of the landscape of my face,
are barren of succor;
for I do not cry.

I entomb my heart in stone;
my hand steadies and I put down
brush and palette.
There will be no painting today!
The canvas I take hold of;
And discard with all the primal savagery
of the barren land within me.
And lying in the corner of the room
in the shadows, like the bottom of the well;
broken and torn to pieces;
is the canvas....
The same broken, blank, unfinished nothingness
as is my entombed heart.

Starman IGK