*
I’ve tried to paint you before
But no matter which color I choose
The canvas remains blank.
My brush is dry and brittle
And my image
Is empty.
Sunlight pours into this room
Yet the canvas
Remains in shadow.
All the colors of the rainbow
And not one
Appears in you.
When I tried to paint your soul
The colors
Turned black.
My brush will not paint you
In any color
For you are not there.
My mind cannot see you
In glory or shame
For you are empty
As the canvas.
In certain scenarios, flat roofs make more sense than pitched roofs (and vice versa).
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Replies
*
I’ve tried to paint you before
But no matter which color I choose
The canvas remains blank.
My brush is dry and brittle
And my image
Is empty.
Sunlight pours into this room
Yet the canvas
Remains in shadow.
All the colors of the rainbow
And not one
Appears in you.
When I tried to paint your soul
The colors
Turned black.
My brush will not paint you
In any color
For you are not there.
My mind cannot see you
In glory or shame
For you are empty
As the canvas.