The Ocean's Canvas

The Ocean’s Canvas

My feet planted in the sand like forgotten sea shells,
I gazed upon the endless blue, the campfire in the western sky,
The symphony of slowly rolling surf, washing over exposed skin,
Rinsing my soul as white as an empty canvas,

As the past drained into the undulant deep,
In the quick of the moment,
When the waters rose and I swam to stay afloat,
My dazzled eyes found the horizon line,

And I made the first hesitant brush stroke,
On a white washed canvas,
I split it with a line where everything begins and ends,
The horizon line,
And the waves whispered in my ears,
Telling these tired hands to paint,

So I painted an old man swimming out to sea,
And I swam,
I painted a sapphire sky full of downy clouds reaching down
With gentle hands,
And the heavens beckoned me deeper into the ruthless depths,

The water now coursed through my veins,
Where blood had once flowed,
And the canvas filled with shades of blue,
A curious dolphin swam through the currents in my heart,
And my aqueous pulse quickened

As I swam ever-farther from the dwindling shoreline,
My hands never ceased to labor at the Ocean's Easel
Even when my head slipped under
And filled with a childlike rapture

As surely as my lungs drank the deep,
I finished my first and only painting,
And then I closed my eyes to sleep.

Written by Josh Monk 
August 07, 2009