My brush would be filled with the brilliant white sunlight
To crystallize dark-gray-up-staged rage of world’s eyes.
I'd mix strokes with wattle, freesias and gold jasmine,
And the glory of Saints’ hymns and far-hallowed skies.
I’d gather sweet kisses of morn's suffused dewdrops,
To wait tender winsome, yet wise miles for a smile.
And the pale-pearly-pink buds of blossoms’ cloud burst
Would lasso the moon's magnetic lustre and style.
I'd canvas purple power’s bright light to ignite,
And encourage the world’s spirit to bridge the way,
To springboard each one of us to land in our own
Gold lantern magnolia to mood-lift mist’s day.
I'd then swirl scarlet, the higher octave of red
To banish snap-dragon’s deception from earth’s pen;
Inking a desire of elder flower’s kindness
to lavender-blue the less fortunate, then when
Life’s cruel chronic pain of black-thorn war marches in,
I'd brandish my brush sky, azure and pale soft blue;
Sky to stay calm, azure to reach for the stars, pale
for faith to know how to bid this cruel pain adieu!
I'd then splash-flash the world’s portrait with verdure hints
of an efflorescent caressed fragrant bouquet.
With awe of nature’s willingness and my wonder
Please join me near the world’s New Year portrait to pray.
Karin Anderson © 2012