The Painter toils in silence; no one sees him come or go—
His canvas stretches to eternity, awash with beauty in an awesome show;
He draws birds upon an azure sky, drops fish in sapphire oceans deep;
He erects land to horizons endless and white-capped mountains rising steep.

His strokes sketch sunny valleys with animals graceful and strong;
For love’s sake, he inserts a creature with a brain, heart and song;
The Painter entrusts this creature with an intricate body, mind and soul
Along with a unique freedom to use them with responsible control.

Art masters’ works pale when compared to this artisan’s grand works;
He stuns the critical minds the way his magic and mystery lurks;
The Painter has an eye for seasons, giving each snowflake a different look;
Spring blooms with hope, ahead of summer sun, fall leaves, frozen brooks.

Waterfalls and canyons dot his landscapes; his stars inspire wonder;
His creatures dream, act and feel, creating life and tearing it asunder;
His tapestry has the magnetic appeal of a full moon on black velvet sky,
Raising hopes that more will be seen the day that death drops by.

Illness may impede, accidents happen, thoughts and feelings impale;
Devils may dance, lords may leap, nightmares may prevail;
Tyrants may rise, peace may flee as death and curses rend the air;
Pride may fool, power may rule, but the Painter…he's always there.

—Charles Hedrick
(written a few months after America's 9-11 disaster)