I’m not convinced that God is in the clouds.
It’s awfully cold up there.
But if you find him riding cumulus nimbus,
Mercy me, for disbelieving.
I only know how most people get
Once they are all ashiver.
That spirit
Whom our prayers harass,
I think I have a pretty good idea
As to where he is hiding.
The God I know climbs trees.
He takes baths in rainforest wells,
And eats of nature’s plump offerings.
It’s always warm around him.
Imagine him tan
And sunning on the beach,
For warmth creates forgiveness
And charity.
What, you don’t believe me?
You believe your God
Sits on a golden throne all day
Developing throne-sores
And leg stiffness?
I can’t imagine that.
If I were a person
From a frozen country
I would, perhaps,
Look up when I thank God.
Because the snow and sun,
Are livelihood.
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