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Poem

I don't understand you, so...that means you don't exist.
You create spectacular works of art impossible to resist.
Your thoughts and actions are written down, in indelible ink.
Ignorance and ingratitude doesn't move me to ponder, to think.

It's much harder to say, I'm confused by you, I just don't understand,
What is the purpose for my existence, where do I fit into your plan?
A humble person will admit they need help, that they might be wrong,
Misguided or misled, they still feel the need to be loved and to belong.

When one doesn't understand abstract art, because there's no nature scene,
Rejecting Twelfth Night, because they don't know what Shakespeare means.
Saying Picasso doesn't exist, because one doesn't know his brilliant mind,
Isn't saying there's no Creator the same, presumptuous, the pinnacle of pride?

John Derek Hamilton  November 20,2015

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