To Paint The Future

        There was indeed something missing inthe painting I stared upon, something to help describewhat our country wasgoing through. My painting depicted a dark lane, with no illumination exceptfrom a flickering street lamp. The sky was of a dark shade of blue, starlessand moonless. The walls of the narrow street were withered and week, withvandalism all over it. The walls were the only borders, there were no buildingsin the vicinity of the area

          The street was narrow, it couldn't even support a car, there were nomeans of passing. On the side walk sat a homeless, abandoned guy. His formalsuit was torn some, withered and wet. His face which had a messy beard was wet, an apparent effect to the tears streaming down his face. He wore a torn upcap on his head, as if it was going to do him good, from the look of things,there was no sun for a long time. 

        Igrimaced as I realized what was missing. I dipped my brush in the palette tobring a flesh tone. I drew an outline of a man, scattered on the floor underthe street lamp. I then gave him clothes, that were much more ripped than ofhis comrade's. After painting his hair, I added blood that oozed as a cause ofthe knife that was sticking out of his head. The body looked pale. The bodylooked as if it was years old, but, the man still wasn't fully dead, there wasstill hope. 

          I imagined myself walking down the street. There was no sound but thewind, which carried the polluted air everywhere. I inhaled dust with everybreath, tickling my lungs a harsh tickle, and clogging my nose. The homelessguy was sobbing loudly, muttering "Save him! Save him!" 
i took three steps closer to him and asked" who are you? Save whom?" 
" they call me many names" he repliedhoarsely "one of them is justice"
Shocked i asked” and save who?"
"him! Him!" he growled and pointedbehind me " save freedom"

           I looked behind me to find a dark body, i traced the lines to his headthat was illuminated by the flickering light. A knife was dug deep into hishead, blood was pouring in a rapid pace, creating a river of blood beneath him.It was too gruesome for me to resist.
" Save him before it's too late!" hecried
" i can't!" i mumbled.
" believe me you can" the man replied,in a more delicate tone of voice. " promise me you will"
I hesitated, deep into thought and promisedhim."

        Thepainting explained so much, but it was time to let my hopes rule. I shifted myview to the other canvas and started readying the new colours, this time, i wasgoing to only use bright colors. 

          I spent hours of swishing and splashing colors everywhere, sometimes ifneed careful lining, sometimes I needed free strokes. I put the brush down;this was, with no doubt, a better picture. 

           At the center of the canvas, it shone with warmth, its rays splashingcolor on buildings. The many pedestrians that wandered the street looked happy,especially freedom and justice. The many buildings that stood tall were splashedwith color from the sun. Red, green, yellow, orange, pink, they all filled myeyes with optimism. 

           Believe it or not it was the same lane in the other painting, only thestreet was wider, the buildings were colorful, it was fully illuminated by thesun, and happiness filled the many people roaming the streets, I might as wellhave painted smiley faces. This isn't what I see today. The sun is hiding fromus, giving us no choice but to live in darkness, no peace, no justice, nofreedom, and no security. Even though I would devote my life to achieve it, itstill seemed impossible.

          Ohhow gullible I was, thinking a task as impossible, makes it impossible. I had ayear, just a year, and now look behind me, millions of people waiting tofulfill their dreams. I wasn't the leader; no one was, well actually, all of usare.

        Nomore distractions, time to let go of the past, and look toward the future. Ilet the memory drift away to the depths of my mind. This wasn't a sunrise, buta dawn, we're not there yet, but we will be, I am certain. 

        Ilooked back for the last time, only to find millions of people, waiting tobring back their freedom, let their sun rise. They were waiting for me, astheir role model, to help them support our destiny. With all my heart I stoodthere, bearing my flag, red at the top, black at the bottom, and white in themiddle, with a yellow eagle in the center. I opened my mouth and chanted, ourfamous chant, a roar of thunder followed.

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writing AWritersPursuit
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can you really paint the future?
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