Painting Time

Calloused hands move across the letters,
painting on a canvas of light.
How long has it been?
How much have we learned?
How much have we forgotten?

Calloused hands move across your smooth skin,
hearing your breath,
feeling tendrils of spun gold
placed as a shimmering crown upon your head.
My calloused hands seek your eyes that stare into mine,
captivating me in the endless depths.

Why worry?
Why let time consume you?
Time passes in seconds,
in minutes,
in hours and days.
Months, years, and millennia. 
Time passes in lifetimes.
Why worry?

My fingers move deftly, fascinated,
by the brittle countenance.
Painting, molding,
the face of tomorrow's world.
The brush dips into the waters of time,
splashes and bursts, onto the smooth face of light, making it rough.
Embracing darkness, holding on to the faint glow of the light
peeking through the murky waters.

How deep does the water go?
How much light is in darkness?
How much darkness is in light?
When will it end?
When will it begin?

The cold metal upon my skin,
I move my lips to touch it, and surrender myself to the feeling.
The canvas of light moves in me,
wells up inside of me, from my core to my arms,
and I spread them to encompass the light, the art made from within me.

How long ago was it?
How long ago was it when I saw your eyes with my fingers?
Gripped your hair with my hands?
Heard your breathing with my calloused fingers?
Painted your face with my fingers on a canvas of light with darkness?
How long ago was it?

When do I wait?
When do I run?
How will I know?
How will you?
Am I you?
Are you me?
How long ago was it?
When I was your's?
When you were mine?

When did we last sit before the other, speaking of the future,
of the past, of the present?
When did time stop, and how long before it resumes once again?

The darkness drips from the edges of the canvas,
falling into the depths below it.
Falling.
Calling.
I watch myself.
We watch the darkness spread below, in our pool of liquid time.
We watch as the canvas falls into the thicket. 
The light melds to the paint of darkness, the canvas disappears.
You watch yourself.
How long ago was it, when I saw myself?
How long ago was it, when you saw yourself?
How long ago was it, when we watched as time passed by in lifetimes?
Not seconds, not minutes, nor years?

I live within you, as you live within me.
The darkness lives within the light, as the light lives within the darkness.
All within the pool of liquid time.
All within the embracing arms of you and me.
All within the silence, the noise, the chaos, and the peace.
I paint upon my canvas of light with darkness,
engulfed in my pool of liquid time.
Engulfed in myself.
Engulfed in you.

How long ago was it, when I last touched the coarse wood of this brush of life?
How long ago was it, when I last touched the bristles of fine hair, to dip into the darkness,
and danced it upon light?
And swam within the mixed waters?
How long ago was it, when my calloused hands moved to paint the story of a life?
How long ago was it ,when my calloused hands moved to paint your face?
How long ago was it, when my calloused hands moved to paint time?

Hold my hand, dance with me.
Guide me, lead me, through this intricate movement of my arms.
I close my eyes, and feel the paintbrush within in my fingers,
twirl with the music within me.
So that I may now once again paint time.
How long ago was it, when I last danced with the darkness,
spun with the light,
and dove into the waters of our lives?






                   ~Mizu Suki~