Each corridor, each fresh new room
Was filled with skill, each masterpiece
Hung proudly framed upon the wall
A beauteous sight on which to feast.
The crowds strolled through the gallery
And wondered at the varied skill
Of artists old and artists new,
Such beauty there we viewed, until
We reached a horrid, angry form
Outlandish in its strange design,
Harsh colours, unconnected shapes,
Dark, bleak and stark in its design.
I looked into the seeming mess
Of splattered paint, of black and grey,
And simply could not understand
Just what the artist wished to say.
With puzzled frown I walked away
But felt a strange compelling draw
So just before I left the room
I turned and looked from distant door.
And then I saw it, bright and clear
The picture shone clear and intense
From distant view point I could see
The artistís mind, his skill intense.
And God who paints the beautiful
With detailed stroke and finest line
Will sometimes paint in abstract form
A picture I cannot define.
Close up I see a muddled blur
Of unconnected shape and hue
A jarring set of confused form,
That bursts with chaos on my view.
With concentration, tears and pain
I stare into the mess intense
And try with throbbing aching heart
To try to make of this some sense.
Then with a gentle healing hand
He leads me on through misted time
Until I can look back and see
A work of art, planned and sublime.
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