Every morn, I wake to a blank page -
A canvas, on which I paint
Today

I often revisit past illustrations;
Some statuesque,
but most with rips, tears, and folds;
"Okay" at best

Yet as the sun rose Today,
I did not hearken back
nor begin the day’s depiction;
I turned to the future and wondered:
What will be written?

Rather, what will I write?

Forced to ask my reflection
what he wanted in his
Big Picture
I hoped to mimic his vision wholly
Without much stricture

Does he want uniqueness?
With splashes of vivacious colors
to strike society speechless?

Or just a camouflage to hide his weakness?

Maybe he wants a replica;
a proven success.
Tracing another’s outline,
not self-expressed.

He certainly won’t want a still life!
He’s destined to incite change;
That’s how he’ll fulfill life,
and how he’ll fill that page.

Gazing into this mirror -
into my eyes and my mind -
I find a cloud, nothing clearer
No exact path to which I’ll bind.

For I am no omniscient being,
as this blank page can attest...

I want to help.
I want to hope.
To show love to all life
through an optimistic scope.

I am no omniscient being,
as this blank page can attest.
But one thing is definite:
I’ll enjoy life’s quest.
 
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