When I woke up this morning I saw that the sky was dark and overcast.
So I changed it.
I turned it into a wintry parchment, a page that waits to be written before the spring explosion of color and song, the birth of new life and possibilities.
The blank script of the winter sky is of the dullest hues, lying flat and heavy over the surface of our world, the broad earthen stage where life performs tragedy, love and comedy.
It waits on our pens and brushes of imagination.
I am looking around to see what I can create today.
I see what I want to see. I can make this script whatever I want.
I am free to behold a world of mine own….
The truck stop that I am in is full of dirty trucks and tired men. The asphalt baring stripes of the task master across its broad back.
The rumble of engines and thump of tires steal the silence from the air and makes the world I see before me a burdensome one that is the bastard child of want and greed.
The smell of spent fuel hangs over me, a foul and corrupted curtain.
So I changed it.
I am now on a broad prairie where adventurous men care for their beasts of burden as they graze.
The air is full of smoky campfire, and the oxen munch and lo.
The crack of a whip smart’s the air, the tinkle of metal, the whine of taught leather beginning another trek….
Exit stage left…
I have escaped the prison of my mind.
I am free to create a world….
I can make it whatever I want.
Is the pen needed to cast dreams onto this script of mankind?
I say no….of course not.
It is our imagination that forms words for the theatrical portrayal of life.
A pen is only the tool.
A tool that can build hope.
A weapon that can crush bone.
A brush that can alter perspective of life’s canvas with a simple stroke.
The art of my early existence portrayed the anguish of my soul and the stumbling of a blind man that had no talent for the texture of life or the myriads of my souls many shades of color.
So I changed it, and started over.
Can we make the world our own?
I say yes….of course we can.
I say yes….We must.
With one slash of our pen, we can change a scene.
…..A tragedy into love.
With one swipe of the brush, we can change night into day.
…..A sun peeking over the oceans through a dying night sky.
Am I happy with the scenes I have written for me?
Am I happy with the brush strokes of my life?
I can’t really say…
Let me act out a scene….
Let me step back and examine the colors….
I think I’ll change it just a bit more.
I’ll strike out “The End” and add another chapter….Maybe I’ll be a hero this time, saving a princess from the terrible ogre or fiery dragon!
I’ll add more light colors, and a soaring bird or two.
Perhaps a shimmering lake full of gold and ice cream under a moonlit sky, maybe I’ll even put a cherry on top?
We all have power over life as we see it.
We are all powerful.
All we have to do…?
Imagine what it could be.
It’s up to us to change the play.
One perspective into another.
Just change the perception of your particular art form…..
Never being satisfied is not always a bad thing.
So change it.
It only takes a few inspired strokes of desire to create a masterpiece.