Life's Masterpiece.

A broad canvas. One stroke at a time.
Red, blue, green and black
Symmetric, asymmetric…
Move back and behold
The picture I painted.

Look not until I am done
Laugh not at my naivety
Question me not now
There will be answers,
There will be a picture
Once I am done.

There is no time to pause
To draw a deep breath; reflect.
No room for correction
A mark made is made.
Cry for all you want,
Tears do not wash away
The blues nor the greys
Nor the cruel, uncalculated strokes
How I wish I could for once
Hold my hand, stop myself
“Not that one, not there
There is a time and a place.
Wait!” Words I never got to say
To myself.

It is still summer
An occasional drizzle drops in
Once in a while
But soon, everything is bright again.
Red and orange on a yellow background
Drops of green dashes of blue
Rich, colorful, happy.

Soon will come winter
Bonfires lit to bring warmth
Will devour my art
Brown and burnt, reduced to ashes
At the end of a long day’s work.
Maybe a scrap will survive
Bearing my fingerprint
Someone, somewhere (maybe yet to come) is sure
To chance upon it
Will she take heed?
To look at it for one long, lone moment;
Try to hear what I tried to say?
Or, will she throw it into the heap
To join the unnamed junk?

Life-giver you are, my fate rests on your eyes
Read me!
Give my strokes your voice,
A new life; the chance to live
Another summer, maybe yet another.
Grant me the elixir
To live on and on
To see me looked at with reverence,
Disgust, criticism or even cluelessly
Don’t leave me to the tides of time
To take me into its forgetful bosom.

There is no world but this
And I yearn to remain.
To see someone similarly inclined
Speak out what I would’ve said.
You give me my life
I rest on your hands
Don’t toss me away.

Years down the lane,
The paper will perish
The colors will fade away
My strokes will be illegible
Photograph me in your memory
Display it on your showcase
There let it lure a vacant stare
To ponder upon all that is life.
Then it will become I
An individual.

Here, I have paused too long
Reflecting on what this canvas will offer
A century from now.
It is time to clasp that brush
And that palette with a determined hand
Thinking not of what you are to be.
I will give you my best
All that my teachers taught me
And those forbidden that I saw
There will be no dilution
For this is not for the faint at heart
This is for rebels who dare to read.
This is for anarchists who can’t help speaking up.
This is for you, standing on the edge
Precariously, waiting to break out
Of your chrysalis.
Spread your wings, awe the world
With your beauty,
There will be a few
Who frown upon those speckles and spots
But they define you, that is your beauty.
A day is all you have
Make a difference however small.
Generously gift happy curves
For they will turn upside-down
Once you are gone.