We see the world in color.
But not the colors we choose.
All of the patterns, shapes and swirling hues where
Already there.
Repeating.
Rhyming.
Stepping in time and
Not one of them is owned by you.
The brush is not in your hand.
The brush is not in your hand.
The veil has no choice but to hide.
Inwardly screaming in anger,
Come awake my children!
This masterpiece has no painter!
There is no captain at the wheel!
There is no chef behind the meal!
There is no touch behind the feel!
HUSH MANKIND HUSH!!!
None but the colors are holding the brush.
The brush is not in your hand.
The brush is not in your hand.
Yet just because the paintings meaning escapes us,
and of the brush we have no control,
the right is not mine to forsake all the colors that
Make this divine portrait whole.
As a mind.
As a man.
I believe this to be true.
Afterall...
it's difficult to paint when your only color is
Blue.
About the Creator
kevin woods
Don't try as hard as you can to take the path to nowhere and do nothing once you get there.
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