Shunya is Zero

The universe they say, was created in a big bang,

Energy, light, heat, plasma and matter, anti-matter,

all that it was to be created, was created,

But then what was the void, before all of that!

It was then I was answered, with that white board,

White like the eternal emptiness,

An empty canvass to be painted,

Shunya with nothing and lost in that Zero,

the canvas slowly painting itself!

Then where was the brush and where was the hand,

the canvas was in a harmonic swing,

it was Mozart I think, that distinct rhythm,

I should have guessed the way the colors moved,

Every stoke and every swish, flush of lights, explosions,

and then creation, hot red and cooling down,

not the paint, not the art but the canvas itself,

Infinite art from the shunya!

Then it the canvas gets bigger, bigger as it paints itself,

Stretches to the absence, the void,

 and the white board strikes me even more,

Do the words stretch beyond  the realms of the board,

does the ink spill outside the canvas,

and then does it paint or does it travel far,

far to create a new canvas and a new art,

but the void still exists beyond the realms of the canvas,

And the creator, the painter and the artist fills the absence!