God’s Canvas…

Life and the dreamscape of time both keep our

Days worthwhile, and our nights awe-inspiring.  The

Ginger sunsets to the dazzling stars that take flight.

When God pulled out his blank canvas, he painted

A magnificent world without complaining or tiring.

The mountains emerald green or snow covered

White, a touch of cobalt blue in the sky, the many

Planets that reach to the Heavens, he never stop

To question his reasons for creation, neither did

The Angels ask why.

Everything under the Heaven’s once pure as a new

Winter’s snow, now has become cloudy the earth is

Slowly losing its glow.  When thinking of the

Dreamscape or landscape of time, we must remember,

All that we see is not yours or mine.

It is God’s work on this canvas, let us take care of his

Work so that it will endure through time, only then can

We say that this earth is yours or mine.

©2013.annjohnsonmurphree

ECHOING IMAGES FROM THE SOUL

Poetry EBook on Amazon.com link in sidebar.

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9 thoughts on “God’s Canvas…

  1. I am not a religious person, but there are moments when the sky attempts to persuade me and I understand why nearly every civilization has offered godly explanations. This reminds me of that feeling of questioning my own skepticism when the skies open up and even I can’t deny the cosmic possibilities.

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    • Broken Arrow…I am one of those who most dislike, I say that I am spiritual and not with organized religion. I believe as my father and his family believed (Native American) that there is a “Great Mystery” that created this world for all of us, to share to live off the land. I do not believe that it went as planned. But, I have lost two children and their spirit lives. Ann

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      • You are so full of grace. When i first read the last line of this poem, it made me think of how it was explained to me that the natives didn’t understand the concept of owning land because the notion was discordant with natural way of things. I almost posted that but thought I was already being a bit lengthy And I believe in spirits, too – no doubt you are correct in your maternal instincts there. My heart breaks for you loss and is mended a bit by your strength.

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        • Broken Arrow, you are a cloudless day in my early morning, thank you for your words; so wise. Keep up your writing, write from the heart and let your spirit guide your thoughts. Venture out, you are destine to write great stories. Ann

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