spying them in abbreviated moments
while sharing adjoining spaces
displayed on the walls of life
some still ruddy with youth
painted boldly in bright oils
some pale, faded with years
gazing through watercolor windows
masterpieces of the creator's art
each embodying a divine spark
housed within a human spirit
the young, anxious to rush into life
the old, reticent to speak of it
pain written on each crevice and flaw
joy imprisoned behind tired eyes
they are God's canvasses, human faces
sketched in the crucible of life
painted with long brushstrokes of time
each an expression of God's genius
worthy of most sincere admiration
and thoughtful contemplation
of the works of art they are
The earth's canvases not blank. Even in the driest of seasons, the earth's canvas is filled with variety in color. Except, perhaps when one is on and a seemingly anxious see by looking for lost identities.
And, among all the images I've seen, only perhaps, this one will make you rich.
This is almost supernatural in scope, Susan. We can argue until we are black and blue concerning how we became who we are. But one thing is certain we are ourselves completely. No one else can be us, we can be never be anyone else. Superb, poetical writing
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Love ya!
Jane
And, among all the images I've seen, only perhaps, this one will make you rich.
Ron
This is a wonderful piece of inspirational poetic art!
Wishing you an abundance of creativity!
With respect and smiles,
Carol Phelan Aebby