The Brush Stroke

For every word is a drop of paint

And the universe turns into my canvas

As I watch my colors and blank space acquaint

From the proudest star to the most delicate flower.

All my thoughts make the bristles of my paintbrush

Which I hold firmly in my hand

As I hover through the perennial darkness of space

The land yet to be conquered by man.

Surrounded by stars of the most beautiful sorts and kinds

For a moment forgetting the limitations of the human mind.

The paint gushes through the world around me

Tinting everything farther than my eyes can see

And my mind perceives

I watch as all of infinity turns to color.

For to where my brush stroke leads

Is what my mind then feels

And all I wish and hope-

To make my brush stroke

In the painting of the universe.

Excerpt from “The See-Saw Souls” by
Kaanthal Manikandan

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