The Masterpiece by Joe Edge

The brush is dipped into a puddle of deep green.  It is lifted to the canvas.
Thus becomes the start of something that transcends our ability to describe.
The brush is touched to the textured surface of the blank material.
It glides across the openness.  Another stroke back.  Again.  Again.
A few light upward flips of the brush.  Time for a new one.  Another color.
This time a mix of two colors and then to the canvas.  Long careful arcs.
The canvas is slowly and purposely touched and tapped.  It is scrapped.
It is looked at.  It is changing.  As the Painter paints, the canvas marvels at itself.
the paint feels wet and cool.  Sticky.  Yet wonderful.  There is a comfort in it.

The painter chooses each color, each brush in turn.  covering the bareness of the fabric.
Green and blue.  Red and purple.  Brown. Black.  Yellow.  He has a plan.
He has a purpose.  Even as he paints, the canvas is unaware.
The canvas cannot know what the Painter has in mind.
But as the whiteness fads away in a sea of colors, it is filled with joy.
It has a purpose.  It has a plan.  Even with the imperfections in it surface, the Painter still paints.
For His purpose is greater that the canvas itself. 

The last bit of white is gone.  The last drop of paint has been put on.
The Painter puts down His brushes.  He puts down His paints.
The once plain white rectangle is something different now.  The canvas feels the change.
As the Painter wanted it to happen, the extraordinary has happened.
He has taken the special beauty out of the canvas and made it for all to see.
On the canvas now is what is true.  It is what is beautiful.  It is you.

by Joe Edge

NOTE:  This is a poem dedicated to Karen Hodges.  You are truly God's Masterpiece.  Trust in that!  God bless you.