The Blank Canvas
The Blank Canvas
What if we were given a blank canvas,
A fresh, untouched expanse of infinite possibility,
The storms that once raged were designed to clear,
The fires burning down what was—
To make room for new sprouts to grow,
From the soil, so pure, so authentic.
What if the canvas was an offering?
A chance to strip away the layers,
The veils, the illusions, the masks we once wore,
The stories we told ourselves
To fit into a reality that was never our own.
To be seen in our rawness,
Unapologetic, unafraid,
Reborn with the wisdom of the past,
Yet no longer shackled by it.
What if the canvas was the universe's way
Of thanking us for every breath,
For the 1 in 4 trillion chance of being born?
No mother or father wounds,
Just deep love for the choice they made,
Honoring their journey,
But taking only the wisdom—
Not the burdens they carried.
What if our wounds became the reason we serve?
What if our scars were trophies,
Each one a reminder of wars we’ve won,
Of resilience we never knew we had?
Deep roots grounded in the soil,
Connected to our own source,
Stronger with every battle we faced.
What if trauma was just a form of triumph,
Alchemy at work,
Turning the deepest emotions into a story—
One that lights the way for future generations,
A model of transformation,
A guide for others lost in the dark?
What if our shadows were not enemies,
But old friends we’ve forgotten to embrace,
The darker side of humanity,
Always with us,
Always within us.
Our journey isn’t to fight the darkness,
But to invite the night into the light,
Leading the world toward unity,
No longer afraid of the dark,
But shining bright like the moon,
Not just radiant when skies are clear,
But glowing even when the world is cloaked in clouds.
What if our stories were nothing but illusions,
Just the truths we tell ourselves,
To justify our choices,
To keep us safe in the prison of comfort?
Living as versions of ourselves we were never meant to be,
Chasing distractions,
Settling for less than what our hearts longed for—
Betraying our own calling.
What if our inner child was our truest power,
Reminding us that life is meant for play,
For wonder, for awe,
To find souls who want to stay young with us,
Not grow old, but grow together,
In a world that wants us to forget that joy is the purpose,
And life is not a task, but a dance.
What if simplicity was bliss?
What if slow was sexy?
What if less was more?
What if the greatest measure of presence
Was the recognition of the soul in another?
A mirrored reflection of the divine,
Of the truth that lies beyond the surface,
In the heart, in the energy, in the frequency.
What if the deepest signals weren’t in our minds,
But in the body and the essence?
The bliss moments, the goosebumps,
When time stands still,
Even in the chaos,
True presence is found.
What if a blank canvas was a divine offering,
A thank you for all that was,
For all we’ve endured,
For every challenge, every triumph,
Every soul that has come into our life
To help us remember who we truly are.
What if we were the artists of our lives,
And every choice, every moment,
Was our chance to pick up the brush,
And paint a new reality,
One of freedom, love, and authenticity,
Unfettered by comparison or judgment,
Living only by our own cadence,
Our own rhythm.
What if karma was a boomerang,
And what we send out,
Comes back multiplied?
What if everything we seek,
Has already been within us,
Waiting to be expressed?
The external is always a reflection,
A mirror of our inner world—
Change the energy within,
And the world around us transforms.
What if we stopped blocking our blessings,
Pushing away the angels sent to guide us?
What if everything we needed
Was already here, already within,
Waiting to be acknowledged and expressed?
The universe speaks in energy and vibration,
It knows the difference between what’s real
And what’s masked,
What’s true and what’s false.
It can’t be fooled by external appearances,
It responds only to the energy we embody,
The intentions we carry,
The authenticity we express.
What if the path to healing
Was simply the return to wholeness,
To the place where we remember,
Where we trust,
Where we honor the divine within us—
The love, the light, the wisdom.
And as we walk this path,
Let us remember that we are the artists,
The creators, the alchemists,
And life is our canvas,
To paint with each breath,
Each moment,
Each choice,
Each act of love.
We are the warriors of light,
The angels of love,
And as we honor the divine masculine and feminine,
Together, we weave our story—
A masterpiece,
A legacy.
Suksema Bali.