Imagination of The Great Artist

A song played and as it did, visions of an unknown amazing artist went through my head. This artist was sculpting the lifetime of a human being yet to be born. This formation started as a single atom size formation with little sparks of blue coming off of it. Not many, just a few. Then the shadow figure stepped back, seemed to ponder for a moment. Then went to work with motion of grace and beauty. The bewilderment of it all. As this atom grew into a fetus, heartbeat forming. The colors in waves of blues, reds, greens, all the colors of the rainbow. It was a sight to behold, and yet, I have no idea how to put it to paper in words or drawing. This fetus then formed into an infant. Born into the world, and still the plethora of an ever changing rainbow surrounded it. Constantly the rainbow changed, as the child grew, and the shadow of the artist was always there. Changing and morphing the sculpture he had designed. Lengthening the legs, redesigning the arms. Watching his creation grow. Making changes along the way, adding and taking away. Like he was working with clay, but a clay that this world has never used in it’s art. Because our clay doesn’t tend to have a light show of this magnitude, I don’t care how many LED lights you add to it.

And as this child changed into an adult, slowly a recognition began to form. This child, was me. I am what I was designed to be. Every light show moment of it. Every bright shiny moment, and every dark shadowy moment of it. But, I am that I am supposed to be, and I am right where I am supposed to be in the artistic design of it all. For I was sculpted, and I am still being sculpted. I will continue to be sculpted and the final product will not be achieved until the last moment of breath. And then, well that is up to the artist isn’t it?

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