They rained down furiously, splashing, streaking, smearing. They left trails, thick, slowly began to blend together in attempts to dominate, their shrieks immortalized in red and black. They wailed with harsh strokes, edges sharp and biting. And they sang with long breaths of yellows and greens.
Louder they surged upwards, outwards, so keen, so eager to express what even words cannot say. Look at us, they cried with glistening tears of the softest blues. Their arms swept wide, flashing wildly for all to see, to take notice.
They beamed as eyes fell upon them, as eyes listened to their voices, seeing what was not there, hearing what was not said. When eyes gleamed with emotion, they soothed with soft pinks and smiles of white.
And when the brush ceased and left them forever, they stood strong upon the canvas that they had forever claimed. They launched themselves forward into the world. Young and ageless and ready to face the world’s sorrows.