I imagine what God’s art studio must be like.
Large and white, between boundless clouds,
His studio contains palettes of silver and gold
to prime canvasses of light and shadow.
In another corner, His kiln stores the raw materials:
amber dust, rain and baby’s breath.
Each lifeform lovingly held in His hands;
at our creation,
painstakingly molds each of us
with delicate precision.
We are flawed but beautiful in His eyes.
No sculptor has yet produced a perfect statue.
Even those primal experiments
resulting in imperfect people are viewed
as sacred and dear in His eyes.