Painting Hall

I walk inside the painting hall:
It’s time to see the past again. ǀ Fine
Time to remember, to recall
Who I was then, in ink and pen.

I look at paintings of the past,
Ancient, but still a trace of truth.
I know what paintbrush I can trust,
Myself in memories I lose.

I then walk to the mirror hall,
To see the present, yet again.
Who I am now I will recall,
An image of evolving when.

I look at mirrors of the now,
Reflections of a passing me,
Remembering to notice how
This all will soon be memory.

Each image from the mirror hall
Tomorrow will be found again,
As painting it will take its form,
Becoming, thus, an ancient when.

I walk inside the window hall,
Future to make from what I see.
I step beyond the timeless door,
Making my dreams reality.

Each day I walk inside the halls,
Remembering from where I’ve come,
Remembering where I am now
And what my dreams in this world are.

Until one day, when I’ll be gone,
Leaving behind a painting hall
To show the truth: what I’ve become,
The truth that’s hidden in my core.

I leave behind a legacy,
That of my own, of my own kind,
For he who’ll walk the halls like me,
A world of dreams to seek and find.

Da Capo al Fine

– Patricia