Final Coat

Just like paint drying in the wind,
my head seems to wrap around each step I take;

Knowing full well that it'll be dry,
but not sure of how many flaws will hold their own;
posessing every drip and run, as if a medal.

The rippling waters of a moment stirred
can last the equivelent of a life-time
and help blur the moments of all of one's tommorrows,
if we perpetually allow it.

Silly, how I've thought
that my life was different and more important.

However, the sun alone...dries the paint;
the wind can only adhere life to it's flaws;
and the canvas can only scream of life's disregard.

And the same wind at work,
continually finalizes it's own legacy
by drying the surface of something oh, so dear...
but letting it slip away.

We are not merely canvases,
for we are the "painters" of our tomorrows;

and it is we, That holds each day's key !
'Tis a dreadful shame we don't posess the "lock".
But, let's all let our paintings dry in the wind,

....and as we all claim ownership of the day,
know that we alone are the painters of our own existences,
and that  those that aren't, can go dry up in the sun...
....it's either that, or they might as well, quit painting !