Sunsets...endings I think, beautiful endings to days that often hold truths I don't want to face, yet am forced to.
I wondered if I, like Mother Nature, am capable of painting a new sky? And will it change daily as hers does? What will it look like? What colors will I paint on the canvas that is my future? What pigments will spring forth from my soul?
Will my brush stroke the rough surface with colors bright and hues happy? Or will I seek shades of darkness, painting the heavens desolate and bleak? Will the clouds toil among themselves in playful patterns of ghostly apparitions? Or will there be dark tones of black and grey as if evil is about to burst from the earth's atmosphere?
I am in control of my canvas...I have come to realize that. The shock is gone. The panic has subsided. Decisions have to be made. I have the brush in my hand and the canvas is blank...it is up to me to decide how the finished product will look.