Repost: No Longer a Blank Canvas

Well, fam, I'm fast approaching another phase of life. Nearly two scores on this earth and I feel extremely reflective, ready for a few changes that will require a few leaps and cartwheels. There are a myriad of thoughts I need to share with loved ones, nothing too deep but it's imperative for me to declare my love, caring and concern. I've been remiss in this area lately. Then there are others that need to be shed, never to show up as a fleeting thought again. To top it off, the remaining thoughts require action and will determine how the days and years ahead play out.

There's no greater freedom than that of expression. However, my soul has been pensive and unsettled as a flood of insightful (and profitable) thoughts and ideas come and go, little to no motivation accompanies them. Why is that? Well, to be honest, one of my "life buckets" is depleted, barren, downright kicked over and forgotten. I'll explain later, but in the meantime I wanted to re-introduce myself to myself (if that makes any sense) by re-posting this piece. This is in an effort to use the residual energy that molded me thus push me from behind the curtain to the second act. A phase of life that is anxiously awaiting my firm embrace of opportunity, progress and fulfillment.

*Cue Serpentine Fire*

~*~*~*~*~*~

A stroke of green depicts the mosaic of experiences life presents, good and bad. 

A stroke of red representing the masked pain of violations of her innocence.

At times, achromatic clouds surface in her world. Some white, others grey and, on occasion, black. Paid dues through the years, through bouts of depression and fragile vulnerability, only to reemerge stronger and wiser, if only they knew…

A stroke of blue signifying the life-changing misery of losing the man and woman who gave her life and unconditional love. Through their patience and wisdom, they taught her to be strong, persevere in spite of dilemmas and setbacks, to give and expect love, be the best no matter the circumstances and command respect.

Pliable like clay at times, hardened by the intense heat of an imaginary kiln that turns her emotions to bisque. Hard on the surface yet desiring to be molded.

A silhouette delicate as porcelain yet under fire becomes as smooth as glass; deflecting the harshness of reality, battling the mediocrity and injustices that stifle even the strongest of men. Shrewdly nudging the status quo to make things fit her plan. Sustained by strength and foresight, she heeds life lessons by coloring outside the restrictive lines that destroy dreams and independent thought.

Bruised but not broken by the seductive yet false nature of lust disguised as love, hidden agendas revealed as dishonesty and lapses in judgment. She’s walked the narrow stairs of right and wrong, good and evil, sanity and madness. Circumvented destruction and death only by the mercy and protection of God.

Stepping back and marveling at the spectrum on the easel…it’s me…always has been…always will be. A prismatic form with hues of brilliant blue and vivid violet creates a rainbow of optimism, determination and abiding love.

What a magnificent piece of work divinely created by God, the Creator of all things good. The one who loved me before I was a notion in my mother’s mind or a daddy’s girl enveloped in my father’s adoration. A life created for a purpose and predestined for success. Driven to love and be a blessing to those who know her.

Not a Picasso but a priceless masterpiece nonetheless. An intense fusion carefully sculpted into a abundantly blessed life.