the painter who sinned...and the Father who pardoned...

"Father...Pardon me
For I've sinned..."
Saying this the painter leaned
On the wooden plank
Just upon it his head sank...

"Father! I was assigned
To paint pictures of the Saints...
On the altar of the God
I was supposed to paint the Lord... could I that possibly do
When a pair of eyes always me woo?
I tried hard to bring in the pure
But, her beauty so much me lure
I lost my mind, my soul
She took on me a heavy toll...
I still tried to put me onto the outline
Of my Lord's haloed smile...
But she arrived tearing, like a gleam-er
In my eyes she did thus simmer!
O! Father! how she came uncontrolled
Defying all walls of logic bold...
Her cherries so red...her navel so deep
From the altar I just slipped!
O Father! I've sinned! I know!
At the God's house, how could I stoop so low!"

The Priest at the other end
Heard all with attention rapt
And felt how could be a painter by confusion trapped....
"Son! the conflict of yours
Which you so far bravely endured
Is not untrue or unjust
For these raw passions a painter feel must...
Go...Son...go to capture her touch
Paint her all encompassing, on your canvas...
Put into her through your painting all
Your love, your desire, your unclenched soul...
God will come to ye...only when you exhaust
Don't be so unnecessarily by troubles you tossed..."


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