Our lives that lay ahead, in the future, are like an empty canvas
It beckons to be filled by you, the artist
The artist who wields the brush and paint
which are none other but creations from the choices you make
What do you choose to paint on that canvas?
Great sweeping meadows, beautiful beach holidays
a life filled with happiness and love
Or something like a dark, morbid, and lonely ghost town
signifying moments of deep depression and pitiful loneliness
Or even an abstract in the likes between Van Gogh and Picasso
shouting to the world the combination of elements
that conflict within you in utter confusion, the madness
If you stand where you are today and look back
do you see what you have painted on your canvas?
You review from the canvas all the past moments
moments of laughter, joy, toil and tears
and the manifold folks - all of whom have made a mark on your life
the canvas peppered with a wondrous span of everything in essence
a piece of a puzzle that makes you who you are here and now
What is it then today, that you would like to add on the canvas of your life?
I have a vague idea for mine, I think
though whether a masterpiece or not it will be
we shall have to wait and see how it turns out to be
like everyone else, I have no answers
nothing except my blind faith in what is yet an unknown


