O God,
Maker of makers,
From dust, not word,
You formed Adam.
Your breath vivified him,
And you placed him in the garden
You made for him
Until he fell.
O God,
Maker of makers,
I also am clay;
You are the Potter.
You have made;
I have marred.
You remade
And remake.
O God,
Maker of makers,
I am the bronze;
You are the sculptor.
Heat me,
Hammer me,
Bend, stretch, twist me
Into Your design and desire.
O God,
Maker of makers,
I am the bronze;
You are the Sculptor.
Melt me,
Refine me,
Pour me into the mold You carved out
With nails,
With thorns,
With scourge.
Bring me out
On the other side of the furnace
Remade in the image of Christ.
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| Approach to Poetry Garden |
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| Poetry Garden |
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| Woman's Garden |
O God,
Maker of makers,
I am Your workmanship,
Your poiema.
The heat, the change, the transformation
Evince Your hands upon me,
Art and Artist as close as fingerprints.
Leave me not unfinished;
Imprint me with Your maker's mark.
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Photos were taken at the Dallas Arboretum during the special installation Kinetic Art of Lyman Whitaker. His bronze sculptures were not static. They whirled and spun in the breeze, changing with each millisecond. This is the last of the planned Arboretum posts. Thank you for reliving the journey with me.
