Rippled movement….blank thought painting

I stood on the shores of a rippled thought

Watching colors change form

Beyond their norm

A synchronicity of hues

To cleanse the board

Of words.

Wiped away, the water colored streaks ran down

Gravity the agent

Of where the things move

Settling deep in the cracks

Into the creases of a full mind

And with a finger dusting a space

A clean me sign perhaps

And I watched it, waiting

For something, anything to come up

Like a suffocating fish that rises

It knows where to find the key

To live,

To breathe in the life force of a sentence

A quote

And lyric or melody

But the blank board sits mocking

And I see it then,

There doesn’t Have to be Anything,

It is perfect in the absence or presence

It is waiting there for the touch of chalk,

Of paint,

Of a simple thought to create

And there was in each pot a color swatch

And adding a bit of water life

The hues ran up, then downward in waves,

Streaking across like a pale sunset lost

Amidst the glory of bubbling clouds

Content within

That it became.