the canvas of faith

My faith is written

in pastel hues,

a globe tilting

to Fall.

Each day we walk

the halls,

a gallery of art.

Pink and purples brush
their mark,
a canvas up on high.

Creation paints a picture

and tells on the heart.

Nature's exhibition

appoints it every day,

an invitation start.

You only need but look,

the hidden made it known,

a signature each one.

Art only is

what the Artist makes,

an Author for all work.

But should you need

faith to believe,

a look is only part.

For sunset plays a glorious tune

and sure melody,

a Composer's manuscript.

And every beat of nature's drum

courses invisible time,

a physical evidence.

But if  you'd peer beyond
the grasses stringy strand,

to plant a lone, small seed,

this mustard of believe
see each green witness
their testimony stand
to grow over
unbelief,
a faith across the land.

"For by Him all things were created that are in heaven and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers.." Colossians 1:16