A lemon sits next to a mason jar
Reflecting its yellow against the glass
Causing me to wonder how much of me
Is the reflection of another person's colors.
How much of what we see is real?
How much of what we remember
Is as it happened and how much imagined?
How much of myself can I claim?
Maybe we blur into time and space
Like paint on a black canvas.
Maybe the highlights are contrived
To lead our eye away from what we would hide.
An artist makes choices.
To emphasize or hide the flaws.
To elaborate or simplify the frills.
To suggest or to overwhelm.
Today I will peel back my own façade.
I will take my design back to black and white.
I will experiment with lines.
I will achieve flow.
And only when I am convinced
That what I have on paper is me
No detail missed, no flattery added,
Will I commit it to oil on canvas.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'reflection of another person's colors', written in strong bold colours or enchanting shades, white light is all light black an absence of light hidden