A Blank Canvas,
strokes waiting to cover the fabric,
stories to be told,
dreams to inspire.
No one line captures what it is to be alive,
no one piece grasps the flint of life.
A promise, first hellos and last goodbyes
spread the portrait,
city lights ignite the heavens,
simplicity in those grand moments of chaos,
not one dab of paint creates a masterpiece,
not one breath language,
not one instance life
and not one person civilization.
Within the City and Walls.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
A Blank Canvas,
strokes waiting to cover the fabric,
stories to be told,
dreams to inspire.
No one line captures what it is to be alive,
no one piece grasps the flint of life.
A promise, first hellos and last goodbyes
spread the portrait,
city lights ignite the heavens,
simplicity in those grand moments of chaos,
not one dab of paint creates a masterpiece,
not one breath language,
not one instance life
and not one person civilization.
Within the City and Walls.
A poem from my first book coming out later this summer. Its title is Blank Canvas: Within the City and Walls
Request permission to use this poem