Pathway to the Divine

Every now and then, a faint glimmer of god's hand reflects in that built by man,

When sunlight grazes a cathedral's spires revealing all their intricacies,

Or some such fleeting manifestation of godly beauty, that we,

Being imperfect, thinking lofty thoughts, imagine ourselves more.

But in all things not made by man, the cosmos, physical and natural world,

Does god's work beam forth with such blinding radiance, beauty and complexity,

As to shame the greatest, most daunting heights of human ambition,

With something as simple as a mountain stream.

With brutal indignity and self-delusion hath man pried himself from god's embrace,

To build up fortresses for our indifference and keep the sacred from our space,

The soil crushed and entombed beneath our streets, the water channeled underground,

The skies torn asunder by combusting jets and seas afloat with a discarded anthropogenic scum.

But god is not defeated, not yet at least, alive and well in forests flowing among the trees,

In soils richly teeming it leaches life from rock, in oceans swimming ever against human onslaught,

In clear nights, dancing lights along the milky-way,

In windswept mountain meadows whispering to us of play,

With infinite love and patience the gift of freedom god bestows.

Shall we come to live in heaven or hell? Our generation may never know,

God is of all things, our universe, our creator,
She is all of this, nothing less and nothing greater.

I pray we find amidst her many gifts, a state of peace and grace,

Though I rest my head in the knowledge that, regardless, we all return to her embrace.