The Human Condition

Places_For_Breathing

Thought I'd paint a picture today
But I couldn't quite keep the colours between the lines
A worn canvas, frayed by time
Lies, writhing and twisting as brush turns stained fabric into dust

Into the insignificant particles that Time itself seeks so greedily to claim
To add to its ever present landscape
To add to the remains of both past and present,
History and future
Consuming what IS and what WAS and what has YET to be..

A half starved gluttony, eternal and all encompassing in its nature 
Set to strip the very fabric of our existence.

And it starts..

With fated good intentions, beating an uneven staccato
Broken and fractured from its own fragility, 

It shatters

Scattering its shards like dew drops in the morning
Clinging to the weathered ruins of our failures,
Doomed to forever repeat its flawed pattern.

Thought I'd paint a picture today
But I couldn't quite keep the colours between the lines
So I cleansed it all with turpentine
And started once again...