Smeared fantasy

My fellow seekers

I don't write poems too often but once in a while I get that itch to let my inner poet come to light. My understanding is that a thousand people will interpret one piece of writing in a thousand ways...and that makes each individuals' reading experience all the more unique. Allow me to walk you along the boundaries of my thinking behind this piece but I'll leave the rest for you to unravel.

On the surface level, this poem is about painting a picture, however, it includes a metaphorical dimension to it as well. If we are indeed the canvas of life and still too foolish to be fixated on whatever that is drawn upon it, then our Masters can whitewash our artsy world with logic to show us that this is what the canvas looks like beneath the heaps of paint we throw upon it over time. Of course, no amount of white paint smeared over a work of art will be able to accurately depict what the actual canvas looks like; just as no logical conclusion can be compared to that of a direct experience. The only way to see what lies underneath is to discard all the layers on top of it. Although the white paint is yet another layer; yet another lie, it’s the closest to the reality of the canvas that paint can portray.

Smeared fantasy

She painted, she twirled, 

Created her netherworld, 

Sought more colours, 

Sought more time, 

To that which was there, 

She closed her eyes

Yesterday and its blues,

A tomorrow in brighter hues,

Seeking more colours,

Seeking more time,

To that which is there,

She closes her eyes

Her canvas stained by greed,

A sorrowful life's creed,

She'll seek more colours,

Seek more time,

To that which will be there,

She'll close her eyes

He guided her with insight,

A hint he smeared in white,

'What colours to seek?'

'What time to seek?'

'To that which is'

'Open your eyes'

Perhaps she's not yet wise,

To see through all the lies,

She blindly seeks colours,

Blindly seeks time,

While he scrapes the layers,

Overlaid for years

He seems to jeopardise,

Her vivid paradise,

'Seek no more colours'

'Seek no more time'

Timeless and still,

He opens her eyes

Hope you enjoyed this poem and I would love to hear about the many versions that were read through each of your minds. I am wondering whether the reason we haven’t found what we are searching for is because we are in fact ‘seeking’…. Hmm…So my fellow ‘seekers’…have a beautiful day! Take care!