Who I am
is like
painting
a canvas of
void.

Unaware of color or conflict.

Unsure of significance or emotion.

Blossoming flowers
drip on faces
and cover all the rest.

I sit, I stand.

I gawk at this strange blank canvas.

Seeing beauty, and courage.
Strength, ambition.
Diligence and fervor.

Empty the water cans sit.

Cold, dry brushes in my hands.

A query glistens on my brow.

Kaleidoscopes of beauty
within.

Breaking into patterns and dancing like wildfires in the wind.

This canvas is filling with thought and purpose.

Empty the water cans sit.