He Who Is

He who layered every line
Into the cliff's face
He who painted the veregated color
Of each iris petal
He whose hand carved the dendrites
Of each crystal snowflake
How much more carefully does he entwine
Each thread of our life's tapestry?

He who knows each single eagle
By the sound of their cry
He who gave voices to the wind
For storm and gentle breeze
He who listens for the breath
Of every crawling beast
How much clearer does he hear
The quietest whisper of our heart

He who brushed the wisps
Of every clouded sky
He who placed the tiniest bud
Onto the willow's branch
He who shaped the granite stone
Into rocky peaks aloft
How much more intricately does he lay
The stepping stones of whatever our chosen path

He who knows the number of grains
On the expanse of sandy shores
He who has tallied the residents 
Of the buzzing hive
He who has numbered the blades of grass
Of the rippling meadow
How much more does he keep count
Of every teardrop shed in the dark

He who has patterned the colors
Of the peacock's plume
He who has stacked the steps of stone
To create the lacy waterfall cascade
He who has designed the perfect form
Of each fledgling egg
How much more has he elegantly drafted
The very essence of our being

He who is the Grand Creator
Of natures every masterpiece
He who is the Ultimate Designer
Of all living things
He who is the Master Orchestrator
Of the symphonies of the wild
How much more is He the Abba Father
Of every child of man