Poem By Daniel Thomas Moran

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.

Comments about God

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.

Rating Card

5,0 out of 5
2 total ratings

Other poems of MORAN

Come September

Come now, September, faithful friend,
On whose pure, light air do I depend.

Thinking About The Death Of John Updike

Out there in the world,
Some brittle oak leaves
Have survived the worst of it.
They cling, like the rest of us,

I Love You

Since I dared say
those words for
the first time, to you,
they have hollowed,

Someday We Will All Have A Blimp

We will all
have a blimp,
With our names

Recalling Pipestone, Minnesota, She Said......

That's what it looked like
where I was born.

Two dimensions.