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The Canvas

Tags: art, life

The canvas was blank. Like a brilliant shining light in his mind, it was blank. Piercing and constant it stared at him, begging to be transformed. Like so many times before, beauty and vibrant color longed to be placed. It cried out to him, but he was empty.

Reports of success and victory streamed in, yet it was all empty. Day after day the generals talked of greatness and victory. Day after day the canvas remained blank. Each afternoon after the business of the kingdom was done he would retire to his private space to dream once again. There with the blank canvas, he tried to paint the picture in his mind but each day like the last there was nothing but silence. Until this very afternoon when a knock came at the door.

Who would bother him in his private time? Certainly not the guards, for they knew of the price to be paid for disturbing him in his time of rest. Slowly he turned his attention from the canvas. There again, a knock at the door! Quickly he became overwhelmed by frustration, both at his inability to paint the picture and for the breach of his peace. Quickly he moved to the door, anger welling inside of him just at the corner of his mind, not yet ready to burst forward. Throwing open the door he was tense and ready.

There before him in meekness was his beautiful little girl. Her smile and excitement shone like the very sun itself! Ashamed and relieved his heart melted and as his little princess threw her arms open he snatched her up from the ground and twirled her around in joy and laughter. Giggling, she clung to her daddy, like the very essence of her life itself.

“Daddy,” she exclaimed, “I miss you!” 

“But Princess, I see you every day,” he returned.

“I know Daddy, but you have been so quiet lately, you seem so far away.”

And in that moment he knew what she was saying. He had become so focused on the painting he had forgotten how to paint at all. There before him the answer, plain as day in brilliant beauty. For hours they played, a loving father and his precious daughter. The world all but washed away as they laughed and danced. As the day passed into night another entered their presence. This time there was no knock at the door, just the entrance of the one they both seemed lost without.

Her beauty was not in her skin or her eyes, or her gentle curves, although to most she was beyond compare. Her true beauty was in her presence and her character. None were as compassionate and loving as his wife and her mother. Her charm and demeanor were like a warm summer day, with a gentle breeze. The beautiful princess ran to her mother with joy! A loving husband to his wife in a sweet embrace. Together their bond like the steel of a well-crafted suit of armor on full radiant display.

As mother and daughter took their leave, he sat for a few moments with his heart full of joy. There again from his hands, strokes from a paint brush danced upon the canvas. Light and darkness as one in beauty and triumph cast the story.

 

 

 

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