In a small little known town,
A college stood unknown by most,
Famous in its own way, by the few needing to know.
Therein taught by a man of art,
Undistinguished by sight,
Yet in all others truly great in what he had to offer.
He had a way,
A path seemingly unique in the way it was trod.
Art became alive for those privileged to hear,
His poetic praises for beauty created,
Each piece lovingly presented,
Making art alive.
People around him blossomed for reasons often unknown.
Joy seemed to flow out him in effortless grace,
Bestowing on those around him, his benediction of healing.
His gift is seeing others,
With acceptance granted,
A gift rare indeed.
Everything became alive when one was with him,
His eyes alight with the beauty and wonder of life,
Also sorrows felt deeply for others,
Facing each and sharing the burden without fear of the pain.
Had not the strength to lessen his loving power, or joy.
Present to all of life,
Those before him had his full attention
As if no one existed but them,
Hence his healing presence, unpretentious.
What was his secret he was one day asked?
Such joy in the face of all the suffering and pain,
Some asked this with anger,
Demanding an answer their eyes hard with disdain,
For not all allowed his joy to enter their hearts.
He looked at those who questioned,
Sadness in his eyes,
It is no secret for all know the answer,
Lean close and I will tell you no lie.
So they leaned and he whispered this into their ears:
God is a child.