He is the beginning,
and the end.
The bearer of all forevers.
His finger tips
swirl galaxies.
His eye sees
the very codes of life.
With his mercy
He brought forth
purgatory, and
men with two cheeks.
In His wisdom,
He wished a deluge
upon the Earth,
and fashioned Darwin
from the muck.
He is more
than we dare know,
and yet less,
than we can imagine.
He made tinmen and popes.
Black holes and the aurora borealis.
He is love and
love is blind.
He loves a good fight.
He enjoys His fame.
He had me fail geometry and
made trees which became
the masts of ships and
the bunks in the death camps.
He conceived of
hummingbirds and nuclear physics.
He is indeed most righteous.
In His firmanent
evil never triumphs.
He makes
plaster madonnas weep and
causes deserts and cancer and
snowflakes and stillbirths and
fireflies and widows and
shadows and the apocolypse.
He knows
everyone by name.
He listens to prayers.
He is the landlord
the taxman and the concierge.
He is surely one
of us.

by Daniel Thomas Moran

Comments (1)

This heathen enjoyed your poem. It's nice to get someone's vision of God that is crafted with wit and mercy. Bob Gotti; Take a lesson.