Finding God
Come with me
into the meadow of the mind
where God is found. Its ambience
is of reflection, and cannot be earned.
It is the ringing in the far-off hills,
never heard above the silence of the damned.
It is the glimmer of the light
just after sundown as it falls
upon the facing cliffs that form
the walls of dreams.
It is the unpretentious whispering of love
relentless patriots will always bury
underneath the fusillade of war.
So limns the meadowland of God,
footprint of the divine.
It is too much to worship, venerate or pray to.
Too much to wrap around reality
or ever simulate or hold above our heads.
It is not to understand; for
God may not be any where...
at all.
~
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