on the day i met the artist like medium that speaks to man i said please reveal your glory as the paint drips from your hand use the brightest of the pigments the most beautiful of hues but the first stroke was a dark shade a blue so i begged and then i pleaded i do not understand the means why would you put the hope inside me if you would not paint the dream he said don t let glory s reflection distract you from glory remember that all good things come from me with each stroke his hand was steady and i found myself in awe for as i stood back from the painting it was not of me at all but the darker shades he painted the ones that i had asked for not had put me in the shadow of a cross