If life were a painting
only a face to face it
All the walls and veils
and what goes behind the happy houses
could be left unpainted
Stillness will no more
be a thing to strive for or achieve
For each will be dabbed in it
with strokes of the brush final and finite
Frames will no more be framing
but adorn the limitations one couldn't overcome
and even protect them
from uncertainties worth growing
Hung up on walls,
left unseen
Fate would be at the mercy of
nail's kindness rusting
And the creator could no more hide
behind some ineffable parables
but have the signature inscribed
in some corner of the masterpiece
for all except you to see.
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