The Blank Canvas

The Blank Canvas

I look into the glass of reflection,
bordered in a golden hue
and see a pair of souls
staring back on a blank canvas.

How long did it take?
For the portrait of favored natural selection-
To pale and whither into a shadow of a once
brilliant hued design.

Souls stare and the canvas
turns from left to right,
examining its flaws,
its worth.

Not knowing that
the colors have faded-
faster then a fire cooling to embers,

The canvas stares out once again,
at its reflection, refusing to accept,
the light that has left the canvas-

The colors that have dimmed on its own accord-
and the souls that now stare out,
at a white and withered canvas.