The Painter, The Brush, and The Canvas

Paint me whole again please.
It's as if the portrait painted of me years ago as a young man has faded.
The once vibrant colors that gave life to the image has given way to a human without hope and eyes without a face.
Time marches on and the sun will surely set.
The sand on the warm windy beach drifts back into the sea of wince it came.

As the pulse rate slows and the heartbeat dwindles, the person that resides in the earthly abode is a witness to the intense strength of the soul as it struggles to make the ascension towards the heavenly light.

The memories rush through the mind like a raging current seeking it's Delta.
The amazing beauty once again renews the sweetness of a climatic moment preserved in the dreams of days gone by.

Where is the hope as darkness replaces light
Where is the passion that ran through the veins

The artist with the gentle yet precise stroke of the brush breathed life into the image appearing on the canvas.
An image, not timeless, not without imperfections, yet still fully beautiful
When the crescendo hits it's peak and the hues are rounding the apex there is no doubt the portrait is fully alive.
Yet something majestic seems to happen almost immediately
The completion of this priceless work of art brings forth a passing of the torch
Art is displayed for the ages, the colors may dull, the eyes may loose their luster, yet the moment in time remains.
Hope is in the heart, passion is in the soul, together they form a portrait painted by the creator for all to enjoy.
The waters recede, the soil erodes, the winds die down, yet the person displayed in the picture on the wall, remains in the minds of many for decades to come.

LIVE LIFE while breath is still in you.

I found this years ago and once read it to a class at church. I have no idea who wrote it but it sure is deep and powerful.

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