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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