The Artist
He came with his brush upon his lipswith loving eyes his spirit takes a peep
into hovering beauties yet unknown
he paints this world and calls it his own
With gentle strokes of words he drew
our land, sky, rivers and even the dew
mountains, canyons, gardens and the rose
even his Son he drew from Shoal as he arose
Populating the world he drew from his heart
different races of men are his prized art
in the Amazon he drew birds, tigers and monkeys
in the desert he drew a live canvas of whispering keys
Six days he drew wonderous beauties to behold
the onyx, jasper, pearl, diamonds and gold
on the seventh day he laid down his brush
as he lies hidden beside the springs by the rushes
He leaves behind a tiny clue to where he is
admist papyrus scrolls he lies drawn in man's bliss
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