his canvas is an infinite spread
he paints portions of it green,
and folds and shapes part of it without coloring it,
he makes mountains
he paints the sky blue
sends a soothing breeze
he makes some water,
and breathes in life.
he lights up the sky with his millions of stars
while we chase a completely different million,
he runs his hand, on our heads, pampers us,
don't you feel the clouds roll by
he shows himself in every way
to console us he is there,
he shines on us and makes our day.
he makes landscapes when he paints
and reshapes and alters them still
he is still at work,
he plays in the sand and caves are formed,
his green fingers plant forests,
his campfires erupt lava,
his presence, like him, is infinite.
we must thank him for
he is allowing us to sample his creations
he is the one who invented our discoveries,
I'm glad to be able to sense Him.
