When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted

"When Earth's last Picture Is Painted," is one of my absolute favorite poems. I discovered it in college when I was reading an article in "Smithsonian Magazine" about Kipling while sitting in the Dentist’s office. It was so beautiful it made me cry. A few years later I was asked to read the poem as part of a shared eulogy at my friends father’s funeral. Turns out, it had been one of his favorites as well.

I lost a loved one this week, the funeral’s today and thought this would be a nice way to honor her.

R.I.P Aunt Betty, give Tommy, Lexie, Debbie, & Daddy each a big hug & kiss from me.

This amazing photo is courtesy of the Hubble Telescope. It's a cloud nebula and not only reminds me of this poem, but a Maxfield Parrish painting come to life and what heaven must look like, all rolled into one.

WHEN EARTH’S LAST PICTURE IS PAINTED
By Rudyard Kipling 1892

When Earth's last picture is painted

And the tubes are twisted and dried When the oldest colors have faded
And the youngest critic has died
We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it
Lie down for an eon or two

'Till the Master of all good workmen
Shall put us to work anew
And those that were good shall be happy
They'll sit in a golden chair
They'll splash at a ten-league canvas
With brushes of comet's hair
They'll find real saints to draw from
Magdalene, Peter, and Paul
They'll work for an age at a sitting And never be tired at all.

And only the Master shall praise us.
And only the Master shall blame. And no one will work for the money.
No one will work for the fame.

But each for the joy of the working,
And each, in his separate star,
Will draw the thing as he sees it.

For the God of things as they are!