OLD CANVAS

Old canvases,
Tucked away and hidden
In dry and darkened places,
Gathering dust and wasted;
One of these so easily
Could be
Me.

I've thrown away some
That looked better than I did then,
(so torn and stained and scarred).
But, the Artist refused
To discard me..

He took me out of hiding,
and went to work restoring.
He thoroughly dusted and cleaned me up,
mended all the tears,
sanded all the scars,
until His good design
showed through,
and the colors glowed
clear and true.

But...
He didn't stop there.
No, with great care,
He took His brush in Hand,
and dipped it into a
Palette filled with
Grace and Favor.

He painted some,
Then painted more,
Until I was, not merely restored,
But made anew...
Washed in Heavenly hues,
And now of great use
Adorning His House.

He isn't finished though.
No.
He goes on painting,
never ceasing until
the final Showing,

Because,
though it's the Artist Who paints,
It's the canvas
that's seen.

Old canvas...
In the Hands of the Master
becomes
a Masterpiece.

Copyright � 2000 Shoshana Kurzweil

Shoshana page 3