I feel like a leaf, floating with ease;
well above solid ground;
carried, without purpose, by a breeze;
haplessness, my being, surround.
Life can’t be lived, devoid of purpose;
nothing is created, without Thought;
truth, finds itself, hiding neath surface;
most lives are not what they ought.
Nothing is created without a plan;
complexity is not piled up by a breeze;
creation so complex as that of a man;
was not accomplished with ease.
And all of creation has its reasons;
absolutely none, is happenstance;
it has come to be, in stages or seasons;
none, came about by chance.
So search deep within your being;
find what the Master wants you to do;
through deeper thoughts ,it can be seen;
exactly what God, has gifted of you.
You are the paint brush, the Artist has lifted;
pulling you out of life’s thistles;
accepting your role that God has gifted;
making beauty, glide from your bristles.
For nothing in life has come from invention;
to believe otherwise is odd;
for everything in creation comes from intention;
and is signed by its Artist, God.