The Black Canvas

My life began
with a single stroke
across that canvas
No special colors were chosen
No special palette was used
It wasn't Picasso or Michael Angelo
Who drew my life
It was the hand of God

The strings attached to the brush
Slowly made an image
That would define my entire life
From my love to my death
and my love was just my beginning

No one warned me
of the callous
distraught images
that would appear in the middle
and somewhere near the end

It took years to make me
To draw and construct me
Contour by contour
Till I was the master design
God's proudest creation, Man

In the dim of the universe
When nothing lived,
nothing breathed
God took a few grains of sand
and eternally breathed life
Into my lungs

and in that black canvas
I was made
I was birthed
And God was, is,
and always will be
My Father