sun_is_still_shining

United States

Member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
ISFP
Enneagram 4w3
Poet
Theatre kid who likes choir
Marilyn Monroe- but chaotic nerd edition
Tap Dancer
I like the color blue
Ramen for Life:)
No day but Today

Message from Writer

Chipotle burrito formula:
white rice, black beans, chicken, lettuce, salsa, LOTS of cheese, corn, cabbage, cilantro

The names left behind:
a_myriad_of_stars07 (March 25-June 31)

Kintsugi

June 22, 2020

FREE WRITING

5
A small white canvas sits alone 
Still to be painted, still to be sold 
Ethereal tones, unshaped by man 
Pure until the next day began 
 
When small fingerprints traced her corners 
Painting with purples her once white face 
Thumbprints pressed themselves into the canvas 
Creating impressions of beauty and grace 
 
A thick black brush dipped in blues 
Stroked her remaining space 
covering up her original feathers 
and leaving stars in their place 
 
The painting is happily put up for sale 
But she stands out in the crowd 
They all sell pink plastic paper 
And fingerprints are not allowed 
 
Hundreds of hands rip and tear her figure 
And pull the colors from her frame 
Disfiguring the hues that became her soul 
and then throw the disaster into flames 
 
 
 
The small white canvas sits alone 
Burned to the core and broken down 
the colors were gone, so was her frame 
Her identity was gone, so what could remain? 
 
Her stars were gone 
Her blues burned to black 
The hands that had painted her disappeared in a snap 
 
She succumbed to the ashes 
That the people painted her into 
Just a burned canvas 
Unwanted, unloved, adieu 
 
 
 
 
A lone figure stepped by the fire 
Noting the ashes spread around 
He gathered the remains into a pile 
leaving no particle unfound 
 
These large golden hands grasped her dust 
and held her in a gentle embrace 
Seeing the once beautiful picture  
He wiped the dirt from her face 
 
He pulled out a stand, a brush, and a pot 
And carefully set down her dust 
He painted her particles on a brand new canvas 
Creating gold streaks along with her rust 
 
The hues and fingerprints reincarnated 
As did the wrinkles and tears 
But they faded against her white background 
Which he lovingly left bare 
 
She became a golden horizon sprinkled with stars 
And green hills bursting with life 
Where under a tree, a dark-haired girl was singing 
Undaunted by the scars of strife 
 
The canvas sat in the artist's hands 
Too ethereal to be sold 
He hung her where he could always see her 
In a frame of glittering gold 
 
He gazed upon her every day 
Noting her beautiful majesties 
Seeing her colors and white canvas 
That were purified in her tragedies 
 
With his gentle, unwavering grace 
The artist's hands had known 
She was a beautiful, priceless masterpiece 
Who never sat alone 
 
This is probably the piece I've written that I'm most proud of (so far).
God is painting all of us into masterpieces, even when we can't see the artist's hand.

Print

See History
  • June 22, 2020 - 11:14am (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.

2 Comments
  • sunny.v

    oh? “ She became a golden horizon sprinkled with stars / And green hills bursting with life “ the absolute beauty exuded. wow. lovely piece, and oh so so so pretty! awesome work!


    5 months ago
  • Anne Blackwood

    Ugh, I just love this.
    Replying: You're welcome! And thank you!!


    5 months ago