The Masterpiece

The master’s hand was steady

His eye would capture light

He always knew his subject

And breathed into it life

But every time he set to put

His masterpiece to canvas

Life would interrupt him

And would steal his time like bandits

He’d go to aid a friend in need

Or cheer a saddened heart

He’d work to support family

And teach his students art

He took the time to play with kids

To celebrate at weddings

To visit aging elders

And attend church baby blessings

He never seemed to find the time

To finish what he started

Some say he lacked ambition

Or was lazy and fool hearted

The day he died

Unfinished his famed masterpiece still stood

And yet his life reverberates

In countless acts of good

Did he waste his talents?

Was he vexed with tedium?

Or did his skill transcend the brush

And find a living medium?