Sacred Art of Grace

Messy canvas stained with broken colours,
bleeding hope smeared across a faded page,
scars of wounding entwined within the sacred,
scarlet thread of grace not on empty stage.

Artistic rhymes flowing back and forth,
reaching for the skies, never reaching sacred,
depression's curse always heading north,
verses of real life, not dismissing hatred.

Clay cracked and flaking in shadow's ruins,
held in the calloused hands of striving,
as my pride paints in sacred illusions,
my religion leaving shallow thriving.

Weary lines held within my journal,
descriptive words not telling the real story,
deep within my soul – searching for eternal,
my feeble art, now falling short of glory…

Melody of a heart beat – singing pain,
bruised emotions left dancing unrestrained,
beauty declared despite the constant rain,
flesh nailed to wood is how sacred is explained.

Grace frames the landscape enhancing meaning
defining true beauty through compassion's voice,
pretty art empty – without redeeming,
when my forgiveness and healing becomes His choice.

Blood staining the dirt beneath the cross – showing,
the deep love that transforms my troubled heart,
though the burden is heavy – I live knowing,
my faithful God only deals in sacred art.