A magnificent painter once known
For a hue of red he bestowed
No other could mimic it’s array
It’s beauty or vibrant shade.
But Christ looked upon him each day
Knowing the exact recipe made
For the ingredients were stirred in the grave
From wounds of death and deep pain.
For stains were left and had marred
This soul and creative heart
And the magnificent canvas was turned
With strokes of loss and hurt.
Yet never the color so deep
Would have risen if wounds didn’t seep
And the gloss would be dull and dry
If not mixed with the tears of life.
(NOVEMBER 8, 2015)
It is in the pain and sorrow that Christ births the most magnificent beauty unique to you and I..while the valley may seem overwhelming. …the canvas will soon be vibrant.
