blank

I’m staring at a blank. The white of the paper not knowing where it goes. Maybe to find something I lost. Starting with nothing and hopping for more. this blank… this eternity this canvas yet to be painted. How do I splatter the paint or do I use the brush. Maybe the blank white is the picture it’s self. Like some who use black to make the line and fill them in. I know people who use white to paint on this canvas. Knowing you cant see the story. Hiding in the pain they live. Disguising it with the every day. Yet I don’t see it as sheet of white or a canvas yet to feel the artist touch. Seeing the mold as if it’s a sculpture.  Yet to be resaving detail of the portrayer and his emotion. So I start that line, I carve the first notch. Yet I still see white as it fades to black. Trying so hard to work in reverse. From the black to the white. As what I see to the mold still waiting for the knife. So I know start, I know how to display my canvas. Look in the words to see the painting. As your eyes rise though the text look at the bottom to under stand what you cant see.

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[catofjade]

Interestingly, have you noticed you are talking only about black and white, here? Think about filling out that picture with color, how does that make you feel? Write about it. Never take counsel of your fears.