Creator
Like freckles on a face
He has sprinkled the stars in the sky
With the hand of Basquiat
And the gentleness of George Carver
More skillful than Beethoven, Boulogne, Coleridge, Lucifer
He taught the birds the tune and gave the chirp to the crickets
Like a tender mother
He covered the earth with His wind
Like a great curtain
He ended the show with the darkness of night
Aha, you have a worry?
What’s that to Him?
“I call an animal, a species, an individual corrupt, when it loses its instincts, when it chooses, when it prefers, what is harmful to it. ”
