God must be a poet,
To mould mountains like mystic rhymes,
To keep hills in ageless youth at all times,
Just as He preserves the loudly faithless, the hateful, the hopeless…
And those whose fate is hidden in worse ellipses.
He must be the perfect poet,
To hide the scream of streams and reverse the wild revelry of rivers,
Back to where the wailing waters fall down wild waterfalls,
Onto a colossal collision with wet rocks far below;
Before tumbling and rumbling onwards,
Like word after word,
Wave after wave…
From distant tales; and over oceans far away.
God must be a poet,
To design meaning and give meaning a design.
To construct reality like a simple sonnet,
And to order order or disorder in any line.
He is the perfect poet:
To personify poets and pious Popes,
To create cruel killers and Kings,
To know every thing,
To own everything.
He indeed must be a poet.
Goodstuff.