Canvas of Life
I will never be completed
Until the end of time
I am just a blank canvas
Being filled color by color
By the artist above
With his strokes of life.
Each stroke of his brush
Creates a new day
A new story to be told
A new game to play.
And as the colors begin to form
The picture of my life
From the day I was born
To the end of my life
Rests there on his easel
As I rest there in the clouds.
Until the end of time
I am just a blank canvas
Being filled color by color
By the artist above
With his strokes of life.
Each stroke of his brush
Creates a new day
A new story to be told
A new game to play.
And as the colors begin to form
The picture of my life
From the day I was born
To the end of my life
Rests there on his easel
As I rest there in the clouds.
♠ ♠ ♠
By this I feel as if I'm trying to say that God is the painter of the world, the creator of mankind and everything here on Earth. And up there in heaven rests millions of easels, some show a completed picture, some half full, and even some left blank for those unborn. And with each day you are alive, God creates another portion of your picture. And when God beckons you to heaven, is when you know your picture if completed. And for each filled canvas, there is a blank one, the starting of a new life... The starting of a new picture.