Eons before the beginning of time
When the void was so immense
The heavenly hierarchy family divine
Was living in emptiness dense
So they created from an atom single
A reaction most amazing
Which grew and grew to intermingle
A galaxy ablazing
And on this one small planet
Came forth beings like themselves
And a nature full of beauty
In which they all could delve
Mountains reaching into the heights
And forests deep and green
Plains that stretched much further
Than any eye has seen
And as they looked into the sky
Into this Universe expanding
They saw the sun and moon and stars
And Galaxies disbanding
But there was one Hierarch, Artemis
An artist don’t you know
Who thought he’d use the people’s sky
For a most amazing show
He got up very early
With his palette and some dew
He painted the plants all silver
And did the sky in blue
He did some clouds in a vibrant white
And as the day grew old
He mixed magenta, orange, and pink
To make it look quite bold
When the elder hierarchs heard the tale
Of this younger artists task
They really were quite furious
That the universe he’d mask
Don’t you like the universe and stars
In their splendor and their glory?
We’ll put you in a cave far down below
So you cannot see their story
So they locked poor Artemis down below
In the caverns of the deep
And then retired to their starry sky
Where they finally got some sleep
But early in the morning
They were awoken with a start
From a multitude of prayers
Spoken deeply, from the heart
For it seems the people down below
Had so enjoyed the beauty
They prayed to God, it would return
And the Hierarchs saw their duty
They went and got our Artemis
And his pallets and his paints
Apologized and exalted him
A step above the saints
“It seems my son, my artsy one
you’ve gotten rave reviews
I suggest you get to painting
Before the people get the blues”
“But the blues they are my favorite
I really must confess
Without the blues, my artwork
Is really quite a mess”
“Well use the colors that you wish
but you best quite soon get started”
with that Art got his paints and brush
and with a rush, departed
When arriving at the immensity
Of his canvas of the sky
He remembered what his father said
Though he could not reason why
He said “I’ll start with reds and orange
And throw in a dash of pink
With magenta clouds to set off the sun
It’s beautiful, I think”
But as the morning went along
He forgot their conversation
He got out blues and painted strokes
Without a hesitation
With massive clouds of a pure, clear, white
And a light brush stroke of cirrus
Blues that were bold, blues that were faint
And blues that were his dearest
Then as the day drew to a close
His Father did arrive
Art thought, Oh my God, what have I done?
And toward the reds and gold’s did strive
His Father said “I’ve been watching you
And your work is quite impressive
Your technique is really perfect
And rhythm, simply progressive
Your work is worthy of the Gods
And the Hierarchs will be proud
But I do have one, simple, request
And to this, you must be vowed
At the end of the day, you must take rest
And let your canvas drain
And let the universe and moon
And stars take on their rein
For the people, they must not forget
Their God’s and our creation
For if they do, it will surely lead
To their own desolation