I would try to write something really meaningful, but Marc Barnes has beaten me to the punch and you should really just go read Bad Catholic.

I guess that's a stupid thing to write on a blog, though: Go read another blog.

So, um, here's some more religious poetry. I wrote this in high school:

The Painter’s Brush

Colors, dancing, twirling, coming alive

Cascading down, filling the world

With their beauty; vibrant hues

Mixing together, melting into one.

The scent of the painter’s easel

As he moves his brush

Scattering pigments onto the leaves

Filling the air with colored light.

This scent overwhelms me

Takes away my breath,

Makes me want to be

A part of the painting

To jump into the midst of the chaos

To be suffocated by the colors,

By the shades of orange and gold

Dancing around and in me

Moving me to feel,

To long to dance with them,

To have myself transformed,

Painted, remade, by the same brush.

I'm praying for you!

:)