That God is Love is Religion Enough

That the Divine Finger

Touches all


That God’s presence moves the corpuscles and separates neutrons from protons–

Is enough to make me Wonder–and praise the nameless Deity–

In spite of convoluted passions and

Crazy zealots’ intent on PowerandControl–

Force-feeding wretched dogma into innocent

Hungry hearts searching.
I praise the God who cried through bushes burning

Who thunders the skies

Whose saliva might indeed be made up

Of what is known

As the human race!

That I could be a part of the spit

Inside the mouth of that who spoke the galaxies

Into being

Is more than I can ask!

That they might choose to cleanse me with it

And love me

Is the unfathomable mystery

To which I bow.


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