The Speaking Canvas

I am neither at the door
Nor at the window
Waiting for your shadow
To fall on my floor

I neither called your name
Nor I have one to say
You can enter on your own will
And I won’t mind as you go

But here is something
You need to know
And I have to say this
I am a door to
An unexplored roar

My colors are real
Like colors of fire
Submerged in tranquility
Of the blue colored black sky

You call me a painting
You see me hanging
But, I am an artist
I am the truth in his lie

I am a master piece,
Hiding the wall.
I am his wonderful creation
So is he mine.

~Harnoor Bhullar