Your Masterpiece

You gather your colors, the whole spectrum of the universe, and prepare your brushes: love, grace, truth.  In your mind a wisp of an idea begins to form, churning and tightening as you determine each very specific detail.  The image takes form in your magnificent mind and you begin to put paint to canvas.  You start small, from the vital beating muscle within.  A brush of passionate love here, a swish of vibrant joy there that becomes blended into the dark anxiety, doubt, and fear.  As you move the brush around the darkness becomes almost unrecognizable.  You swoop the brush as a magnificent beauty appears upon the canvas, and a pleasant thankfulness is the final touch to the beating heart.

Next you begin on the intricate muscle above, where messages will flow from and enter through.  You put your brush to work once more and begin to blend intelligence, logic, and swirl of humor, a navigation of the passion which was bestowed upon the heart.  Some of the darkness from the beating muscle below makes its way up, but is mixed and blended more and more gradually as before until, it too, is barely noticed.

You continue your work of art, adding lovely hazel-blue lenses through which to appreciate your work and natural beauty, and a portal through which to hear the gorgeous swells of blended harmonies and melodies.  Another stroke and soft pink lips are added through which love will be expressed and music will be created.  The canvas, almost filled now, is magnificent and beyond compare.  You frown as you try to determine what's missing.  The image becomes even clearer and brush meeting paint caresses canvas once more.  Wavy brunette hair with reflections of your light covers the brain.  A few dots on the face and distinguishable dimples are born to brighten the smile.  Curves and edges created with graceful swoops work down and create legs and hips to move, dance, skip, and jump.  Arms and hands are created to embrace, pray, worship, and create.  Once a lovely white silk gown is donned and a shimmering crown rests gently upon the head, the painter leans back and smiles, beyond pleased with his work.  He gives it a kiss and the figure breaks free of the canvas, living, breathing, twirling, dancing freely.  She stops and looks at her creator and her eyes shimmer with love.  "There you are, my princess, my masterpiece."  You proclaim, "You are so beautiful for me."