A war of colors,
As the blues of the ocean battle
With the yellow flames in the sky,
While red explosions occur
On the green land near by.
A quickening pulse,
As the brush swiftly glides,
Forming allies and creating
New colors within the old,
On this battlefield of bursting shades.
The cooling hues of blue flirt with
The blazing yellows,
Giving birth to soothing greens.
The mighty red takes offense,
Intervening with all its ferociousness
Resulting in splashes of purple and orange,
A cacophony of chaotic splatters.
The purple and navy blue
Are silent witnesses.
For they are assured of
Their position on the pedestal.
They watch, smug,
Snickering at the frantic manic
Of art in the making.
My hand is as stable
As the din of the resounding contrasts
Of the hues and shades,
Masterpieces in their own.
A certain serenity, a result of
Utterly unfiltered, conflicting emotions,
Thrown onto a blank canvas
With all the grace that comes with aggressive explosions.
The calm of the blue wave
Seeps in like the sky,
In which the orange fire has died down and embers remain,
Fading away into the darkness
Of the uniform, dominating black.
The yellows in the fields
Slowly lose their brightness,
As the battle settles down into
The dull beauty of the night,
A night of victory.
I finally breathe,
The battle was lost,
As my brush, my weapon,
Had surrendered to impulse.
But the war had been won,
And life was granted
To a blank canvas,
Of endless possibilities.
Feb 11, 2015