The Grand Artisan

God, the ultimate Artist.
The supreme Scientist.
The intimate presence within,
and throughout this existence.
Regenesis … poetry in motion.
Is she masculine?
Or is he feminine?
Is the answer
beyond our understanding?
Is this life
but an artistic documentary?
Seen through all the agony
and the ecstasy …
the triumph and the tragedy?
Have we truly
been given a free hand
by the Artisan Grand?

Or are we rats in a laboratory?
Are we but particles
within the part and parcel
of subatomic intricacy?
Just mere quarks
traversing the dark?
An infinitesimal part
of a dimension mechanical?
Speaking relativity,
where is the power and the glory?
A perpetual quantum
crunching the numbers
in some mindless continuum.
Is that the universal story?

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Sunshine Mandala

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Mr. Fire-ring Philanthropy
of the Wall Street Diddle
and effluent magnate
of all things plastic
that float upon the sea …
to whom do you compare?
31 million light years away
in the centrifugal centre
of the Whirlpool Galaxy
lies a hungry black hole
All stardust to recycle
somewhere way past
the Milky Way’s middle

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