Yesterday cannot hide;
its shapes scrutinised,
hues criticised,
scoffed and treasured equally
– a Renaissance masterpiece!
Separately, barely distinguishable
from the countless, the many.
Harshly real,
an eerie image or chance to feel.
Brushstrokes of memories,
completing a masterpiece.
The honest framed in Yesterday.
Tomorrow is an abstract.
Illegible, but open
and unending.
Uncertainty, unease,
held in its brief, patternless specks
of colour.
The excitement it holds – the promise!
And the fear.
Here, in its lack of box and frame
it spreads, it extrapolates,
a tangential stream,
a thought born from its
almost blank canvas
forms the fear.
A perpetual paranoia that it all
won’t exist.
I take up my brush to
shape tomorrow or preserve yesterday.
But I am the artist.
I’ll paint today.