Picture of Life

There's a blank canvas,
it describes who I am.
Do I paint on it?
What do I do?

Is it suppose to be the emptiness I felt?
Or is it the path of life I've yet to accomplish.
I don't have any paint or brushes,
do I have to find them too?

What is this of looking for items of nothingness,
are they special in any way, or just to complete
a picture of hopes and dreams.

I looked through every petal
and every single stem in this field of flowers.
This artwork I was suppose to make was here.
It was peaceful and quiet.
Astounding of the label of life.

It's usually like a huge city,
busted cars, and criminals of despair.
Wondering when War will start,
our troops are patiently waiting,
or dreading the day of the letter
of worry and tears.

Eventually though, I did find
those essentials of painting the canvas.
I'll make the colors of purple and gold,
red, blue, green, pink, pink, and orange.
They are just lovely,
lovely enough to paint a picture of life.