A Master

His hands are long and spindly;

            not brittle, delicate.

He appears to be shaping and connecting the world around us;

            flashes of color appear, circling us.

He is a god!

            sweeping over some exotic place where colors are not just themselves.

I call to him; ask

            how could you be doing this?

            how could you be in complete control?

He turns (flicking his fingers, changing purple to orange) as he says

            “How could I not be,

            and what exactly am I doing

            that you cannot?”