The creator takes up his palette,
Paints, sketches, draws and doodles.
Colours, hues, shades burst from the page,
And a universe exploding with possibility is born.
Stick people become three-dimensional,
Spluttering, breathing, laughing, loving,
Taking up their own palettes,
Their own colours, hues, and shades.
Freedom locks horns with temptation,
And loses the battle,
As one who would drain colour from everything
Pretends to offer a shade to outdo all others.
Millennia pass till one man appears,
Carrying his own palette,
Ready to renew life’s colours,
Using two strokes of a sacrificial brush.
A cross of love, a kiss of change,
A hue of dawn in a garden exploding with possibility.
And so we paint on, taking up the palettes
Of our days, hours, moments,
We create, doodle, draw, imagine, experiment,
We splodge and smear and cross out and redo,
Telling our stories, drawing our worlds,
Each day a fresh palette
For the latest story, picture, action.
He takes up the palettes of our lives,
Exploding with possibilities,
And offers to clean the daily spills,
Mishaps, and unintended splodges.