Wednesday, September 25, 2013

To the Creationist



The summertime front-door caroler
Tells of a spectacle of ropes and pulleys
Behind the human mind, the grandest galaxy,
The unexplainable labyrinth to eternal relief
Inferred from a book proven by personal belief.

Yours is a bi-millennial song with one ritual cadence.
The nonspiritual world has practiced scales
Religiously in the past two thousand years.
Fresh music sounds sweeter to our dulling ears.

After all, all are after
Power and control with divine teleologies.
Power and control with divine eschatologies.

You say the Creator has left his mark
And I say you are connecting invisible dots,
Yet you repeat:
             The Creator has left his mark.
Humored, I repeat:
At bright midday meticulous creationist,
Squint, see amorphous clouds bear my initials.

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