Paint on a Canvas

By
All that is written
is paint on a canvas
Once nothing more than a thought in ones head
a sudden blot of paint falls slyly on the endless canvas of possibility
Stretching on forever and ever
You could never find the end
of what could be
That first drop of paint challenging the emptyness
Plunging into the unknown
It Must be so
For the canvas never goes away
And the paint supply is endless





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