The Painter's Brush

With careful eye the brush he grips
To set at ease their trembling lips.
Some strokes are vast and deep and wide
And some are faint, they nearly hide.

What picture gaze on canvas rough
Awash with color, is it enough?
Alas and did the artist know
The life he painted to and fro.

Day after day the hours fleet
The master paints he does not sleep
To bring the image plain and spit
A master's piece so fully fit.

With peace of heart and quiet hush
The soul becomes his painting brush!
He sets in motion every life
Experiencing turmoil, pain and strife.

But in the midst of all this pain
A masterpiece becomes so plain.
With every stroke of reflected Light
The canvas glows with new insight.

What picture gaze on canvas rough
Awash with color, is it enough?
The painter's brush attuned can be
A wounded heart alas set free!

Written and Copyrighted by Al Carden