Paintings In the Sky
Ever wonder
Who paints the skies?
Who bares his soul to the world
On his pallet of crystal blue?
Perhaps a warrior,
Borne on wings of steel,
Carves into the heavens tales
Of war and death and glory
Bold strokes of red and yellow
Tales of greed and hate and pain
Tales of valor and strength and might
Perhaps a virgin,
With hair of gold and wings of silk
Painting stories of love and care and joy
Against a soft dark blue
Glistening with the magic in her soul
Confined within a glass box
Pushed further into darkness
So that the radiance only just seeps through
To light up our night sky
Perhaps a God,
Showing us simply that His world,
Our world, is filled with love and hate
Righteous and vile
And after every moonless night
Comes a radiant dawn
To once again light the way
And pour its radiance into the souls of the lost
Or perhaps we each paint our own skies
And see them through our own eyes
Behind which gaze a warrior, a virgin, and a God.
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