Eppur Si Muove

It occurred to me that finding God
had become a casual affair
like children tracing characters in the clouds
confusing the sky with a stage; the Sun for a spotlight
waiting for red velvet to descend
for the show to end, to fall asleep in intermission
like children often do
with cold blades of midnight grass for a bed
the constellations for a blanket
their dreams go unheard
because no one believes
in what they don’t see
not anymore, anyways

So I pursue my daily madness
careful to spin proverbs into clichés
to compose me a new myth
something to placate the masses with
revolutionary rhetoric
to turn spread fingers into clenched fists
something to fight with
but far from the refuge of paper
the words get lost in the wind
and I mourn their passing
because no one believes
in what they don’t see
not anymore, anyways

there are still promises of promises to keep
still marionette clouds to puppeteer
still so much of childhood to concede
still veins of scripture to bleed
still so many unseen, unheard, unread things to believe
in the things the universe keeps well hidden up its sleeve
but nothing calls me to the center of this galaxy
paved with the muted notes of a Sirens’ song
the planets on a tilt, unmoved

So I keep searching for God
with eyes wide shut
between silver lines and beads of rain
where I’d like to think He dwells
but patience runs as thin as ice these days
and it’s just like waiting for a muse
to light the fuse and call the world to my attention
just hold your breath
just wait…
you’re about to be inspired

Your Two Piasters: