On The Canvas

The colored marks on the canvas tell me a story
they whisper to me; explaining the innocence of the night
screaming out the silence to all that are visualizing the scents.
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The night's sky glistening across my wandering eye
that first glimpse through the world of pure imagination,
somewhere that only one can create; only few could truly understand.
The smell of the flowers blooming,
at the bottom of a streaming waterfall fading into the mist;
surrounding the realization that this is the other side.
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The sun rays flashing through the trees
stay still and you can hear the silent rustling,
through the extended leaves, across the landscape.
Take a deep breath; smell the smoke swirling into the clouds
that blue moon sings me a never ending song of hope;
it explodes down into that whispering waterfall.
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Do you dare cross that bridge; unsteady is the orneriness
floating between two worlds, if you trust you won't fall.
Close your eyes and let your mind lead;
the unknowing has never been so fascinating.
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So curious as to what lives in that mushroom house
with their cape hanging out to dry.
Between the two trees, my eye yearns for so much more
will I ever be able to get back to this world?
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But I know that he'll keep that door unlocked for me.