A clean slate.
It's like a blank canvas is laid in front of me and I am hesitating with my brush not knowing which color to paint on it.
A blank canvas.
Paint brush in my hand.
Red, Blue, White?
Which color should make the mark?
I ponder.
Time trickles by.
Should I go for the plain.
The obvious.
Start with white.
Mind whispers.
It won;t make much of a difference.
Or should black go ahead?
A darkness that stretches ahead
Yet, a peaceful land for dreamers
A safe haven for minds
Red. Blue. White.
Why not all 3?
Surely, many would follow after.
It is not the color that matters
But the painting it creates.
Red.
A slash.
White.
A splash.
Blue.
A smudge.
One after the other.
It is a painting alright.
Color after color,
Something strange yet beautiful.
Eyes open.
A blank canvas.
A clean brush in hand.
I remembered the painting so clearly.
Color after color.
To make one magical mess.
I dab the thick color on my brush.
A smile on my lips.
No, it is not the colors that matters.
That was not what stopped me.
Red. Blue. White.
What difference does it make?
If I have no painting in mind,
Why do I care the color I choose?
It is the painting that comes first.
Close eyes again.
See it behind my lids.
A starlit sky.
A city street.
A stray cat.
A dreamer with a dream.
A horizon with no end.
The list goes on.
But now I know where to start,
A splash. A splosh, A smudge,
All in the right place.
All with the right color.
I fear no more.
For I see my dreams with open eyes.