Done and dusted, are
the Arts of the Saints
We look and wonder
Without actually
seeing a yonder
How fair the
impressions of brush and paints
Like pencils, they
were, in His hands
To write and to draw
That, on which we now
gaze with awe
And the Creator’s
slates on which is scribed His artistic strands
Tested and proved,
the science of the Saints
Though nature wants
it soft
Rough and tough it’s
as oft
And out of the
crucible it stays devoid of taints
Yet they only mimed
the One Masterpiece,
Mimesised the real Model
And gained the
‘saintly’ label
Love is the art;
sacrifice the science
It matters; it’s what
brought them there
The Master’s Arts,
The Creator’s Science
Get on the wings, but
only if you care…
Austyn
C
