The Canvas of Yesterday

The canvas of yesterday

In a meadow,

during the blackest of night,

sits an easel with a empty canvas

that waits for words

to chisel lines and images

onto its grainy surface.

The moon has retired

for its month journey

while the heavens seem cluttered

with twinkling spots

that grow in sizes as the night rotates

around dimension never seen before.

Lights fill the night sky with glitter,

and sparkles like diamonds,

escaping, falling rapidly towards the meadow.

The colors streak across the sky

like nakedness quick to hide

its exposure as it whisks,

arching through the cosmos.

In this snapshot, locked into the minds of all,

is the past lives lived,

and a future, that is vibrant, but not seen.

In the fading night light,

a brush lifts its bristles,

dipping into the starry source,

flicking onto the canvas

a liquid stardust that clings

to the etched images

of the heavens from yesterday.

In an instance,

the illumination of the enormous universe

ignites the canvas,

exposing not only the past

but the future,

in living color…