Self Portrait

You sit;

Brush your camera;

Canvas your lens.

 

You breathe;

In and out;

Sealed eyelids flickering.

 

You seek;

A scintillating view;

A beautiful thought.

 

You see,

You know, 

You paint.

 

The delicate image in your luminous reverie.

 

Each stroke a new colour;

Universe;

Life.

 

You paint the white and black, 

The all and nothing,

The light and dark.

 

The green, blue;

The grey.

So much grey;

So much shadow.

 

You paint the life and the death,

The hate and the love;

The cold and the heat.

They co-exist quietly;

Tiredly.

 

The paint,

The colours,

Rage war and peace.

Uniting and betraying;

Destroying and creating.

 

With a final caress;

It is finished;

But not complete.

 

You see a mirror;

A reflection.

Nothing more.

 

You enter the painting;

Let it capture you as a photographer captures glorious light.

The colours pulse,

Amidst your heartbeat.

 

You sit;

Brushes askew;

Canvas absolute;

Irrevocable.

 

It is you.

An explicit depiction;

Of you.

Grown like a child,

In your very own mind.

 

It is yourself.

Your whole self;

In a portrait.