by Angela C. Orlando
I gaze at the blank canvas with eager anticipation.
It is so empty, so ready...
An edge of energy hangs in the air, as if the canvas itself is
brimming with the possibilities of what it could become.
This is to be my masterpiece -- "The Canvas of Life."
I begin with strokes of bright yellow and rays of warm orange --
Sunshine at the dawn of a new life.
I add whimsical puffs of pink with wild swirls of purple all
about -- The nature of a little girl as she grows into an
independent young woman.
Near the bottom, I paint large rectangles in heavy greens and
browns -- The base and support of a happy life.
At the top, I create billowing clouds of soft blue -- The hopes
and dreams that keeps this girl moving forward.
In the far right corner, I use white and silver to make a
shimmering spotlight -- The goal for her future that she so
passionately tries to follow.
Next I paint a bouquet of flowers in shades of Valentine's Day
red -- Her first experiences with love and romance.
But love is cruel and can never last. With harsh strokes of
blood-red paint, the flowers are destroyed.
I use lines of acid green to paint a jagged lightening bolt
across the center of the canvas -- The illness and disability
that will ruin her life.
Finally, I cover it all with frenzied strokes of black --
Depression and the loss of hope.
My creation is finished.
I step back to view my masterpieces.
I frown in confusion at the still blank canvas.
Where is the picture?
Where are the colors?
Was all that work for nothing?
I realize then that "The Canvas of Life" has now become "The
Reality of Life."
With these blind eyes, there are no colors.
As if the picture can never be formed.
It's always invisible.
The canvas will never be anything but blank.