Brushstrokes

Morning rises
Night falls
A continuous cycle
Framing daily
Comings
And goings
I trust it to happen
Sometimes, even
Press pause to
Catch a glimpse
And though
It takes place
Right in front
Of my eyes
I don’t actually
Know it’s happening
A transformation
So gradual
Never to be
Repeated
Brushstrokes
And colors
Forever new
Always ending
With light or dark
Visual changes
Left behind
In the heavens
Spiritual changes
Rested deep
Within the soul