Ebony on top of ivory

Face mirrors shining. Waiting to be played.

Daunting beauty, magically arrayed.

With hidden music only few can see

while list’ners wonder what must be the key.

Is beauty only effort—all man-made:

hard work, denial, human drive displayed?

A marker to our creativity?

But notes ignite an ember in our hearts

not made by hands or owned by our decree.

And though we peer, examine, prod and shove,

the ember is the focus of our arts.

Causing those with liberal eye to see

That ev’ry perfect gift comes from above.

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