This Too.. Shall Pass

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Small, polished dots paint a blank, black canvas 

The beauty of it is mesmerizing

It is hung where all can fathom its enchantress

Tearing my eyes away from it is beyond question

It is a work of art made by a true mastermind

Subtle hints of blue and purple hide in the vast darkness

Shades of blue darken as time endures

There is the slightly rough texture of linen cloth

The imperfections not hidden

But flaunted to those who take a glance

Dots scattered across the large, endless canvas

The randomness of it makes it astonishing

Each dot varying in size

All dots baring a story in their light

Some lights bright, and others dim

A thin crescent placed in the corner

Painted in bright white paint

It stands lone but prideful

As the dots beside it will soon fade away

The canvas will never truly be empty

New dots are splattered everyday

Fresh paint is brushed over the canvas to keep it from dulling

At every moment, a new story is written

Whether it be shallow or deep

Bright or dim