Brushed into Existence

A paintbrush lightly traces watercolored roses into existence
Their hearts weep with sadness for the pain their thorns bring
For though their petals are beautiful, none dare approach them for fear of being hurt
Drops of water lace their way down the paper, creating haphazard tracks
For a train that races wildly and has no intended destination
Yet spins its wheels endlessly in the hopes that it might still find a home
The brush clouds smokestacks into life that fade into the distance, into the past
A young woman gazes sadly out the marled glass pane of her window
Small, even brushstrokes bring her slender features into sharp and angular relief
Her eyes alight upon the rose bushes and suddenly in her cheeks there is color
For life belongs to those who are not afraid to cross a barrier to encounter true beauty
However dangerous such a journey may seem”

-emma cavanaugh


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