The things that can't be painted

I've read this one in public a few times, it is probably my favourite poem. Very long, though.

If I could paint,
I'd paint the world
The blue sky, black sky, pink and purple sky,
Green fields, yellow fields, barren, brown fields,
Red leaves from what was once orange
Grey clouds, white snow
The rainbow after a storm.

If I could paint,
I'd paint the sea
Of emotions that swirl through me.
The darkened rage,
Windswept anger,
Coils of jealousy and pity and fear
Emptiness from loss
But brightness, too
Happiness and joy
Love
Peace and calmness.

If I could paint,
I'd paint the land
Ever-changing, always growing
A cycle of death and decay
Giving birth to new wonders
Over and over
And over again.

If I could paint,
I'd paint the sounds
Loud yells of grief
The call of the broken
Laughter from a child
Whispers in the dark
Gasps of pleasure
The quietness of silent tears
Sighs in the wind
And the howls under the moon
On a night like tonight
Void of sound
When there's nothing to paint
Lack of land
When there's nowhere to be found
Loss of life
When there's no place like home
Too still for the sea
When there's no time like the present
To share your feelings
As your thoughts bleed into the paper
Mixing with the ink
Of the world you painted
Before you forgot
What it looked like.

Author's Note

This is most definitely not standard poetry form, but this is how it's supposed to be read.

Reviews

[closed..acct]

How how i loved this, such beauty through out this piece,
also intriguing as well. I loved this write...