Life is a painting

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Life is a painting

Not sure why it always seems to rain on the day of a funeral, perhaps its nature, feeling the sum of sorrow.

This week I have had time, late at night to think and examine my feelings, and I can now express to all of you the way I have always looked at a life.

I think of life very much as a painting, so many of us in our families can identify, and as I have now reached an age to where I have experienced the loss of cherished lives, many from school, some close friends, and of course family members. It seems so much more aprapoe.

Life is much a work in progress, god gives you a landscape. Slowly you mix your colors until you have found the pallet that truely fits you. You add a splash of bright color. Time sees you make changes to your canvas, additions are made, often corrections, sometimes your painting can be abstract in presentation, the world does not understand what it is seeing. More often than we can stand tragically, life is cut short with nairy a brush stroke made, yet beautiful.

Today, amidst alof our family, friends and those gathered together. I want to be sure that we know the poeple that have had a full beautiful work of art that has so many intricacies it will take time to view.

I want everyone to take time today not just for sorrow, but to admire, a gallery worthy, beautifully completed, work of art.

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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