His Smiles and His Catastrophes

That morning, at dawn, tearing the sheets of the dark,

Some streaks and sparks of the approaching sun sneaked out

And called my attention to the smile of the Maker and the Breaker,

Who was definitely planning a date with me; no one else there was to see.

I asked why that smile after the mighty destruction He maneuvered?

The thousands that He swept to their sudden end in that catastrophe,

Were gone from their homes and hopes that they had made and nourished.

The smile that he stretched for that ecstatic minute, leaking out of that crater

In the clouds, continued to arouse my admiration for His architectural skills.

Why must You make if breaking is so necessary? I wondered at the mystery.

The smile wiped away, He had left. I was with me, the dark after the glimmer.

He is He. His ways are His, I thought. His smiles and his catastrophes.