Chapter IX - Painting Words

no matter how life

will strike you,

smite you,

no matter how many ways

you'll be shot to the ground-

a vision will always

find its way into this world

through your breath alone.

it is through the many years

of pain and suffering

that you will ever be complete,

that you will ever realize a purpose.

no matter if you're dreamy.

no matter if you're pragmatic.

no matter who you are,

or what you may amount to be...

you'll always paint a portrait

with your actions,

with your words-

the way you live

writes a story

into this world;

every gesture you make

is a stroke of paint

made into the fabric

of the universe.

all your dreams,

all that you want to be;

a spirit flying,

soaring above the seas,

drawing, painting,

dancing-

free.

with your gaze

you will write

into the hearts

of many,

you will become a ribbon

of fate, of destiny-

a ripple in eternity's wake

meant to awaken

the weary.

leave a legacy of colors

in shifting tides,

echoes guiding souls

through the valleys...

find your voice,

find your way,

honor the journey.

there's a fire inside

that whispers in shades

of dreams and memories,

at its tip lies a brush

waiting to be lifted

by your fingers,

a masterpiece

worth a lifetime's struggles

waiting to be realized.

somehow,

you'll always find

your way back

to the canvas,

it waits for your touch,

your sense of madness,

your roaming gypsy

individuality...

every stroke,

every little mishap

along the way-

all the tiny little imperfections

make you who you are today.

the stray anger,

the wildfire,

the lurking sense of rage

at your fingertips-

your calm, blossoming love;

the peace and serenity

of your smile...

all pour into the brush,

into your dream...

painting your world

in hues of warm and cold,

of contrast and complementarity...

let the colors

go hand in hand

no matter the intensity,

fade in and out

of existence;

escape,

breathe,

stay,

leave...

as you need.

your canvas.

your masterpiece.

your playing field.

the cards are dealt,

laid out in palettes...

grab your brush

run wild,

run free...

be as furious,

as happy,

as you need to be.

give in to the flow,

the guiding route

that you've been

poured into...

and let your brush

cry, laugh, smile-

as paint drips

from your very being...

the colors you seek

are already within you,

someday you'll see them bursting

as springs, as flames,

as spires of eternity.

long as you breathe,

you will paint.

your hand will trace a path

your soul has known

for millennia,

centuries;

trust in your voice.

trust,

in art,

in insanity.

for it is where you shall prosper,

it is how your masterpiece breathes.