A Canvas

Or… the paint.

Photo by Maria Rodideal on Unsplash

“We oft know little of who we were, only something of who we are, and nothing of who we may be.” Charlie Fletcher

I am a canvas bare, an open sea.
No shape adheres, no anchor cast to hold,
A vessel sculpted by the winds that flee,
A story whispered, ever yet untold.

I am formless, fluid as the mist
That swirls on mountaintops at break of day,
A mirror to the world, where feelings twist,
Reflecting back their passions as they play.