Canvas

I want to dip my fingertips
in the paint of our forefathers;
drizzling the blood of our ancestors
on a canvas made of earth,
stretching as far as the stars in the sky.
I would paint the designs that hold
this planet together,like a tightly
woven tapestry spreading over a sphere,
spinning away the axles of life
on a single threaded needle
sowing through the skins of today,
infesting the minds that make up tomorrow.
I have heard the cries of the afflicted,
scattered about the ends of the canvas,
like horses that run from thunderstorms in
the nights of sleeping and somber,
heading towards the oceans end,
drowning in the sorrows long forgotten
by a people who only care about thsemselves.
If I had ears that would listen
to the whispers of the canvas.