Canvas of Life

The beauty of time lies in its course, never to be found, never to be retraced. As if someone painting new path and erasing the existing one. As easy as it may seem, but it is one of the most wondrous things and nothing can be compared to its strength. Some might prepare, some might plan but time isn’t a canvas where dreams can be painted, captured, erased, or redrawn with perfection. Instead, it is a blank sheet where the tales of our lives are written with an ink which fades off as soon as printed. Neither the ink nor the canvas belongs to us, there may be many lives on this planet but the canvas is one, it remains one and the same – a beautiful blank canvas.

This big canvas of life holds nothing, it is blank; holding no past, no future. The only thing which belongs to us is the brush. The brush of life, the power which helps us draw, not the future, but the present. Every stroke vanishes as soon as it is drawn; its beauty lingers for the moment and fades away into the blankness of the canvas. The canvas of life doesn’t have “memory” there is no trace of feelings; actions or deeds; no beginning or end; nothing good or bad; no joy or sorrow, as it is always blank and timeless. We are born to paint, paint something which never will stay, painting the unknown, unseen and blank. All our lives we paint, in the end too it is the same blank canvas; as blank as ever. It’s a pity that most of us lose our brushes, hand it over to others, or leave it unused altogether.

Take charge of the brush of your life, not because you will be remembered (canvas doesn’t record anything), not because your painting will be admired (it vanishes as soon as drawn) but for the moment of beauty your brush can create…never to be remembered never to be praised…just for selfless expression of love of life.