She showed me a painting

She showed me a painting

She said it was her best work

It was white

Not canvas white

But painted white

It had pretty cool brushstrokes

But they were white

It was all white

I said “Okay.”

She looked shocked

“Can’t you see it?”

I said

“Sure I can.”

“Tell me what it

Means to you.”

It was white.

What could I say?

“Okay, this is what I see,

As it unfolds,

In my mind's eye

First, there is a baby

Newly born

A nascent future

A godly child

Eaten by a serpent

From the netherworld

Which wrapped itself around

The tree of life

Anchored and earthbound

Devouring all who came near

The canvas

Is painted black.

Finally,

After millennia

It was killed

When its head was removed

By a blow from a starstone sword

Wielded by a winged warrior

Some would say an angel

Maybe a god

For a time

He was vanquished

By demons

Brought low

By hubris

Fooled into believing

The devil was a friend

There was a war

To end all wars,

They always are,

Much blood was spilled

The canvas

Painted a blood-red

The demons were defeated

The angel rose

Killing the devil

With the sword

The earth erupted

The sky burned

It rained ash of

Starstone

Which fell

As white as

Freshly fallen snow

It‘s all there

Whitewashed

A whole world

Of blood and passion.”

“Close.’

She smiled

“It is all of that and more.”