The Artist Unveiled

I am the artist of my own painting;
a self-portrait; most excellent, indeed;
I was taught, by the Master, reigning;
He, rather than I, saw its need.

The Master was unable to serve as example;
since, He is perfect, in every way;
my failures and weakness; more than ample;
that His wisdom, I might convey.

I must admit, in my most humble confession;
I am often the example in what not to do;
so, often, in writing, I describe a transgression;
so what happened to me, won’t happen to you.

In order to offer an excuse for my weakness;
while gaining a small measure of respect;
I’d like to point out my lack of uniqueness;
simply declaring, “Nobody’s perfect.”

I’ve painted with words; rather than ink;
the king of all failures am I;
I’m more often verbose;  than succinct;
all truth comes out; by and by.

Removing the veil from my statue of words;
all truths; I can no longer hide;
freeing my soul to fly like the birds;
with only love, remaining inside.

I confess to God; to be made whole;
for, my failures are never His;
saying, “I’m not perfect;” to cleanse my soul;
to the only One, who obviously is.