Of Art and the Artist

We journey through our days midst strangers, 
Sporting chance to see into each other’s souls.
And yet we cannot find the eyes, or find what lies within, 
To see and show and make our souls give words into the other. 

But if we chance to meet an artist with his art, 
Within brief minutes of that greet, 
We’ll find the light that shines into that soul, 
For he has found the pluck to bring it out for show-and-tell. 

The artist’s craft rests not in words or marks or song, 
But in the miner’s skill to graft his heart that it might see the sun. 
And for those lesser men like we who seek to see into that graven hole, 
We need not journey far. 

For when we linger midst the trees, we linger near our Maker’s heart:
The grandest show-and-tell that e’re has met the light of day, 
Which speaks of graven marks upon the Artist’s hands and heart.
And gives us eyes to see.