Face of God

Inconstancy chipping at my perfect portrait of the face of God,
A menacing mixture of acted love and emoted hate,
Darkness befalling the silver lights,
Taking the rivers joyous into ocean’s lakes,
Now night,
I cannot see my God.

Meanings dilute by wicked waters casting validity into murky bayous,
I watch them eaten by snipes from heretical tongues,
Sharp comments from dumb,
The dammed, the none,
The ones which wane with contact by the sun,
The one’s that run,
I cannot see my God.

I cannot see my God beyond the cloud of humid arrogance,
Dragging the stench amongst the nature,
Loose and freely polluting water vapors,
Inhale and beget…
The will to forget,
That we have not the power, nor passion,
To whip good from Earth,
Over shuddered screams,
The mother speaks softly in the trees,
Jogging what memory left,
That no form of inhumane theft can snatch away the light,
While in night,
While in bayous,
While in scorn,
There are us who strive adorn,
The ugly blackness of what man has left,
I see my God,
In actions,
In inaction,
In space,
In peace,
In hate,
I hear her in leaves,
Over lakes,
And in fate,
Ol’ mother Earth.


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