The Artist And The Master

I took a canvas and set it up.

To paint a picture of my life and then,

I seemed confused as to how to start,

I willed to do… the best I can.

I took the brush and palette in hand,

With one stroke, I started to paint,

I mixed the colours, as best I could,

But the colours they seemed so faint.

There was no depth, to my masterpiece,

It seemed shallow, broken, a mess,

This is my life…I could see at a glance,

And its value became less and less.

I put down my brush in total despair,

Discouraged and distraught, I got,

What could I do with such a mess?

What to do? The Master I sought.

He took the brush in His nailed scarred hand,

Mixed the colours and began again,

I could see my life change before my eyes,

This was no painter… but the Master of men.

His strokes were perfect, the colour had depth,

What a change in my painting I could see,

I stood back in awe, as He continued His work,

Slowly seeing the changes in me.

“Patience”, He said, as I let Him paint,

I noticed no shoes on His feet,

His robe was white with not a drop of paint,

The Master… I knew I did meet.

My life had changed before my eyes,

At first I could not conceive,

As He took the canvas and gave it to me,

“This is yours, if you only believe!”

Glenn D. Gabie

Copyright 1989

ISBN 1896434053