The Glorious Painter Poem by Md. Ziaul Haque

He has been painting incessantly,
Since the Garden of Eden wailed,
Witnessing the Original Sin,
Of the beings, primary.

He does not paint shapes alone,
Unlike a volcano the canvas is ever alive,
So are the works of art,
Each like an actor playing a part, known and unknown.

Glory be with Him and His creations as we find,
Him letting them move at large,
Controlling at once like flying kites,
Tolerant like a tranquil sea and fierce like a west wind.

Within an endless canvas we are,
Both accessible and beyond,
A surface to walk on,
A colossal space to stir.

The walking pictures end up in gloomy sepulchres,
Turning into foodstuffs,
Of those they crushed once,
The paintings make room while they rise heavenwards.


-God is portrayed as a painter.