The Trimurti

Once upon a time there was an artist, a painter to be exact. She was a wonderful artist with an amazing ability to express emotion so clearly with her paints. She held an event for a weekend, a three day affair to show off her latest work of art. The paint swirled into patterns of anguish and love, happiness and the feeling of breaking into pieces. During the first days of the exhibit everyone complimented her genius and wanted to know the title, she responded with a slight nod of appreciation and the words, "It's not completely finished. Not yet."

The first two days of the one painting gallery, she implored everyone to come on the third day for that will be the day she will finally finish the art piece in front of everyone invited. The third day came, and as the audience shuffled in to the enclosed room, there were stones on the ground encircling the painting and its stand. The painter walked to the middle of the room, thanked everyone for coming, and lit a match. The match's fire leapt to the canvas with the painter's help; as the fire engulfed the canvas the crowd gasped at the spectacle- surely the painter was nuts, the paint fumes must have affected her brain in a strange and twisted way.

The painting crumbled to the ground as the smoke rose into the ventilation system of the exhibition house. As the fire dwindled to a wisp of smoke, the painter took a bow to a shocked audience. Such a work of art, gone forever.

"Why?" Was the only word heard through the room, whispered in the quietest of ways.

The painter smiled, "After creation, there is a destruction. In order for a new creation, we must destroy. As the Trimurti of Hinduism represent creation, preservation, and destruction, so does the life we lead. Born, lived, died; created, admired, destroyed."