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Finally, that vicious day was over At last, my labor was through. Before I could rest my troubled head Slowly I knelt calling to you. Lord Jesus, I am... “Frustrated by my frailty Discouraged by my pride, Aware of my constant failure Desperate to you I cry." “Everything seems so fruitless No matter what I do, I cannot seem to overcome In my attempt to live for you.” Alone in the quiet darkness As I began to rise, Your words broke through to my broken heart, I lifted my tear stained eyes. “My child I see your struggle And I know your deepest pain. Take a lesson from the artist And see my love blossom again." No longer was I in darkness And loneliness had fled, I now stood in your brilliance Transformed by what you said. Opening like a curtain These rays gave way to a stage, On which, bearing easel, brush and canvas Stood an artist without age. I watched as His bare canvas Took color with each stroke of His hand, Noticing the gloomy shades applied Not following any sure plan. This art revealed my state of mind All scattered, dark and dreary, No shape or form could I find Only voids of uncertainty. The look upon this craftsman’s face The confidence He bore, Soothed my rather restless state And bid me look once more. From His eyes back to that canvas My sight was then renewed, For what was once a meaningless mess Became my life reviewed. Brilliance and splendor sprang forth Radiance and majesty cried, As if I had just been born I viewed now through Artists eyes. Oh the value of that work Increased with each slight stroke, Shadows did sunshine birth And gloom, joy now awoke. Purpose and hope brushed over me Questions and fear sped away, Realizing what my artist did see Refreshed this matting that day. Oh, I still have questions And life can wear me down, But my life is becoming a masterpiece Stroked by The Artist with The Crown.
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