The man raised his eyes to heaven,
And watched the artist paint the sky;
The warmth caressed his aching limbs,
And his weighty cares began to fly.
He shrugged the burden from his shoulders,
And gazed upon the canvas above;
The painting of the angels of heaven,
Their brush strokes shine the color of love.
For a moment his heart, frigid and firm,
Opened to the gates of heavenly joy;
He smiled for a moment, hoped for a moment,
Forgot about life’s hardship and toil.
The ancient tears welled up within him,
And drew rivers upon his face;
Followed tired lines and painful scars,
And washed his calloused mask away.
The man, weary with the demands of life,
Looked up for a moment to admire the sky;
Then the angels of heaven, the guardians of hope,
Taught his bowed spirit how to fly.
