Two. I stayed up. I listened. I heard new things. I did what I needed to. I had an open mind and what worked out was not of my own doing. I set Tonight to play through my earbuds, and it had never hit my heart as hard as it did in those few minutes. The emotion that isn’t described happened-some sort of ugly mix of realization, desperation, and frustration. Cry with no sound, no breath. Fists clenched, jaw tightly pressing. Continue. Keep on. I went with black first. I needed it. I needed to break the crisp perfection of the untouched and unscathed canvas. I let one drop go, then another, until there was no denying or trying to go back. I spread it all around, ruining the purity there once was. It felt good, but regret loomed nearby. More. More. More. Small streaks, thick clumps. I threw my hand onto the wet cloth, and looked to find my hand stained black. Again. Again. Again. Kitchen Sink. The chords always seemed too beautiful to be, so I grabbed a rich purple that always seemed too beautiful to me. Drop. Circles, unending circles, continuing on as the notes build and form into something that eventually bursts. But it doesn’t stay beautiful, for the black soon overpowers it. All that’s left is a memory of what it was. Drown. Silence, more circles. Save. Something else is needed-red. Red chalk is all I have, it must do. Just Like Yesterday. One small streak became an overpowering theme. Across every inch, imbedded into the fibers of the canvas by my numb fingers. Falling Too. Keep rubbing it in, solidify it. Never Change. Make yourself believe it. I Want To Know. Press it in. Prove Me Wrong. Drag the powder to the center, the blackest point. Whisper. Even the darkest was penetrated by this red. One more, last one. White, dipped onto a stray bobby pin and precariously pressed into the center. Whisper. Where the red overcame, the white was born. Trees. White canvas=beginning. Perfection. Harmony.
Black=mind, heart, and soul. Utterly hopeless and destroyed. It broke the perfection, it smeared sin and death all over what once was.
Red=redemption. Jesus Christ. The blood of the Lamb. It lays upon death, it overcomes destruction. It covers the sin to where the individual is no longer seen as wretched prisoner, but free child. All You see is that You have covered me gracefully.
White dot=everlasting hope of everlasting life, freedom, and joy in this newfound salvation. No matter how deep and wide the black was, no matter how thick the storm will be, there is always the white. There is always the red. Sometimes art helps demonstrate the truths that we can’t comprehend. Art is necessary. Find it, use it. Create. Truce, on repeat. Goodnight.