There in his fingers the towns,
Rivers, traveller, beckoning pathways -
His right hand, far off, divines
Mountains, stars, heavens -
Ethereal precision -
Each detail weighed, moulded, finessed.

His left hand supple flows in arcs of ochre and
Crimson -
Then together, storm-bringers,
Surging, leaping – unleashed
Ferocity cracks,
Instantly checks, dispelled
In whisper breezes.

Thunder again, remote, stronger now -
Immense hands gouge gryndes in the ground,
Uproot cities,
Shatter atoms to

Silence.
His hands pause.
Abeyance.

Only breath continues the journey -
Until there under his fingers
Forms a country
Unconfined -
Of amethyst sky
Of sapphire meadows
Of amber streams -
And dancing through, the progeny of dreams –

All at his touch conceived, etched from
Ivory, from industry -
From his soul’s hands
Which, their wonder-work
Done, come now
To their
Rest.


To A.B, with all respect.


Kj6feb09