Audience Of One Poem by bright benson

Waking up felt different, something wasn't right
Floating was easy, gravity had lost his fight
A drift into emptiness, a feeling of despair
A strange mix, anxiety and fear

Into a room well lit so seeing was visible
There he sat, with a brush and paint
Walking slowly towards him, i had questions to ask
This place, this feeling, was i here for a task?

His first stroke was red, 'for the times rage consumed u.
For the love you show' his second was blue
Green; 'for the times you decided to do good'
Grey; 'for the things you did that offset people's mood'

Next purple 'when you let pride take over'
Orange; 'for the hope you gave others'
Then brown; 'for the times you didn't win'
Black; 'for the times you chose to sin'

He dipped his brush into a mixture
Gave it a little shake, felt the texture
He pulled out the final paint from its case
He undid the lid, poured some in a vase

He stroke the paint to and fro the paint-board
Covering the others, artistic perfection is the word
'White; grace that covers your imperfection
You 're forgiven, return and live worthy of your salvation'