The Canvas

Yes, the canvas for your viewing pleasure, an old post. Again I reach back in time, forage through the stygian vault returning with this old piece.


This shell is not me.
You see this shell and you think you see me.
This shell carries a message.
That message is limited.
Yes, from within this encasement I comment.
Sure sometimes you will see joy, other times sorrow and other times deep thought.
It is but a canvas I paint upon, it is not me.
Me, I rest within.
At times, especially upon awakening, I look in the mirror and see the casing.
The canvas.
I too get momentarily tricked into thinking it is me.
No it isn’t.
For I recollect that in my dreams it was nowhere to be found.
The great “I” of my dreams, that’s me.
Yes, conflict will bring illustrated illness upon the canvas, that is as it always was worked out in creation’s story.
The fall of man.
I must admit that even the recognizable, identity toting features upon this canvas are yet…

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