A Master's Hand

In dancing or converging galaxies
Or nebulae’s kaleidoscopic forms –
In light and dust and gas in ecstasies,
The universe is caught within its storms.
It all seems still upon a painter’s board,
Although its palette far surpasses all –
With chiaroscuro and impasto shored
Upon a light no painter can enthral.
A life within that luminosity
Is plainly felt and in an instant known;
It’s there alight, for those with eyes to see –
A master’s hand at work overtly shown.
It’s now the thinker gives a knowing nod,
Sagaciously ascribing good to God.