Canvas and Colors


I was not there when the universe was created,

Nor at the time humans were made,

But still I know the creativity,

I know the art, the sense of magnanimity,

Shown in through the brush upon the plane canvas,

Where the grey, the white, the rough and the smooth,

Plays a game of creation with the instincts of nature,

Where the brush mesmerizingly goes to and fro, time and again,

And recites the poetry of colors perpetually,

With never ending vocabulary of words and idioms,

And ignites battalion of feelings, inside, of a person,


I see, a life is born without any sensual conjugation,

Life with soul residing in it,

Feelings, senses, shapes, imaginations, a distinct one,

Describing the nature, humans, gods, odds, flaws,

And all that is present in the universe,

Now I see the creation of world,

Misty thoughts and hazy beliefs just vanished,

It’s the canvas! The colors and the creation,

That every portion of it made the earth,

And that every portion of earth evolved into universe.


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