A painter we each are

A painter we each are

Each new day we wake, a clean canvas waits. Each day we are opportune to paint in a new way, a master piece, same as yesterday, or not.

The brushes, some you have carried all your life.

Comfortable in the hand, used a thousand times before. The good, the perfect, the blissful, but also those you paint with perhaps in anger, deceit, with pain attached complete the set.

Others, if you pay attention enough, as day goes by, come in and go out to offer perhaps brushes not yet considered for your masterpiece.

Yours, given freely to try if you like, to see whether these, might replace or reshape anew those already in your kit.

But each new day, a fresh clean canvas waits.

Yours to paint as you decide, for better or worse.

Your free will to act or not, and paint a new masterpiece, today.


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