That the Divine Finger
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
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.