Thoughts from my least used paint brush:
I sometimes wonder what red taste like
I have seen my keeper bleed
****** knuckles, wrists, and knees
I often wonder if different shades of the same color hold the same feeling
I have never felt orange
Have never knit together sunsets or flowers
I am abstinent from such beauty
I have known blue
Paint bucket skies, blended grace to look upon
I do not want to take credit for what I have done
But I still want to be a part
I want to explore the color green
Plant gardens on woven white paper
Grow tall, thin, wide, strong
Walk in this ecstasy as a gardener
I want to build sky scrapers reaching into the lust of clouds
White, black, grey
I am okay with being neutral if it only means I will sip the savoring make up of this masterpiece
A possibility always seems to be floating next to me
I am only waiting to lifted into nirvana
I will wait forever for just one monument with my name carved into it
And I will not falter, I will not give up
My mouth has gone dry but I am hopeful to once again meet with my love of creativity