Life’s Pigments

To gaze upon one’s life canvas

Is to….

Revisit the child within
Ask if Van Gogh hadn't experienced the sunflower
Would we know yellow and ochre as intimate friends?

Would music's rapture remain alive without
Pavarotti's high C
Coltrane's "Sheets of Sound"
A Shostakovich 1905 Russia?

Could scented memories remain permanent
Were ocean salt mere granules in darkness
Pine needle sap but sorrow of nature's longing
Darfur's wafts of boiled rice simply yesterdays past?

And what of touch
Given freely by a baby's hand
A mother's lips
A feline's paw
Is this not of permanent storage
To be accessed anytime
From the attic of our minds
Forever willing to give
Receive?

Can taste ever be forgotten from
Virgin mountain streams
Warm milk from mothers infinitum
Brackish tears of joy?

Such as it is

Aging asks to be but temporary
Committing not to gravity
Tissue disintegration
Or synaptic malaise
Relying rather on our embracing Time
Allowing wisdom to nurture cyclic preparation
Life's pigments layered upon a limitless canvas

Give Time its due
Colors will dry
Purity of vision will appear
Absolute and bodiless as horizons awaiting tomorrow's sunrise
Awaiting another edge ever-changing

For some
Only denial

For others

The journey proceeds
A perpetual hourglass
Remaining in motion
Generating new arrangements
The cosmic sand expanding its window
Giving reflection back to the sun
Renewing fire
Generating passion
Fostering endless vibrations