Shadows form their own pattern, creating a painting of sunlight, an image that goes away as the sun moves.
Everything I see is a reflection of the past, because it's already happened and my eyes are just catching up.
What we create, what images we bring forth, these are longing for moments that have passed. Even when imagining the future, we can only use memories of things, of actions we have experienced.
A blank canvas, that is only physical, our souls are never blank,
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