Alas, Lisa cannot change it No matter how hard she tries As she cries out and struggles It hardens before her eyes
So here Lisa sat Stunned and ashamed That her heart was so hard And her artist unjustly blamed
“Why?” She now demands Why would this artist be commissioned? Who with any kindness Would give him this permission?
“O Master, please renew, Take your paintbrush and my heart Build on this new foundation Make me a new work of art”
“Was it you?” her voice called As her face turned to the master Was it you who let him in And gave rein to this disaster?”
And so He began The Master with paint Strokes of new redemption Made beauty from the pain
“Yes, my darling girl” The Master then exclaimed “It was me who let him in. He is not the one to blame”
So here Lisa sits A slow process now started As her heart’s being healed Now open, less guarded
“You see, I saw some dark places In your firmly set heart I saw some hard places That needed taking apart.
The artist’s gone now None know where he’ll go Who his new muse will be She shall never know
He was the artist, The man that I used To alter your heart To leave me more room
But she can’t help but thank That past artist of hers The man with his paintbrush And talent with words
The choice is now yours Tell me what will you do? Will you stay hardened and hurt? Or, gently releasing, renew?”
The words that gave dreams Then the pangs and the sting Words that in the end, Drew her to her King 73
