The Canvas lies in front of me. Naked.
Screaming silently to be touched,
To be painted with colors bright and true.
Her eyes reflect the desire to be created
She promises to be a masterpiece
My Magnum Opus.
I color her with passionate strokes
Lost in the revelry of creation
In hues conjured just for her
Her form mirroring my imagination.
Suddenly a thought crosses my mind
Just like a black cloud veils the brilliant sun;
What if all my colors are spent?
For all I have is just one box left!
What if I may never paint again?
Never get a second chance.
A strange fear fills my heart
Deep, relentless and unyielding.
The canvas smiles at me.
Mocking my indecision.
I hesitate for a moment…
But passion blows away my fear.
The pain of an unfinished painting
And the burden of a promise not kept,
Is to an artist a constant thorn,
An indelible scorn to his zest.
My dilemma thus resolved,
I paint her again with renewed vigor
With the hope that when it is done,
My art will surpass its creator.