The Master’s Gallery

Dipped in Red.

Smeared across the canvas.

Depicting the right to sit for the Master.

Red is not optional.

His color of ownership.

The cost of liberty.

His depth of emotion

colours His love.

Inserting Himself where I lack.

Masterfully knitting our hearts together.

A reflection of His love.

Overflowing with His Spirit.

A palette of colour.

A significant choice.

Painstaking slow, a flurry of passion.

Sometimes abstract.

Sometimes transparent.

The sculpting is painful.

Displayed in His gallery.

Amongst many others.

Each painting the same, each painting unique.

Crafted in His Image.

Will they see my face, or His?

His signature is etched across my heart.

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