The Word was written,
But my word is spoken
In the silence of the sacred,
In the crash of the ocean.

The Word was written,
But still I fumble
With what to think
To remain humble.

The Word was written,
But how does Nature sing!
And how pretty the lilacs dance
And how awesome bubbles the spring.

The Word was written,
But my mind questions,
Scourges the earth for answers,
Philosopher is my essence.

The Word was written,
But how it nods
To the doubt in me
That there are such gods.

enlightenment in
perceiving one's existence
comes with suffering
of knowing one's nothingness—
reason to stop existing

Heaven, can't you get enough?
Marble orchards dedicated to
your sustenance. Your creation.
Love and mourning meant to be enough.
For us.
When do you have your fill?

Of course, you're abstract.
Not gluttonous; you haven't
the odd ends of humanity.
You stretch and warp and fill to a non-brim.
Forever.
That is comfort to some others.

Thank you for getting us to where we are now.
To feed our narcissism in washing our hands of you.
Who created whom?
Which came first, the despair or the divine?

There was a funeral in St. Thomas d'Aquin,
And it wasn't in the Latin tongue,
Not English, Italian, not even Norse.
It was unctioned in French, of course.
But it may as well've been Greek.
I sat reserved in my seat,
As many a French rose up to speak.
But the incense was the same,
And the holy water sprayed on my glasses,
And I sat as people knelt
And blessed themselves,
And joined in on the refrain,
I knew it by its name: Le chemin. La verite. La vie.
It's a form of glossolalia,
And it's coming for us daily.
The mourners were onto something more,
Than words, gestures and litanies,
Something greater than any of these,
Yet the translation was lost on me.

Oh God, my God, I wish you were there,
I wish I could leave here, without a care.
Oh God, My God, we used to be friends,
Your voice stopped calling,
And I kept on falling,
Oh God, I dreaded the day our love ends.

Oh God My God, I want to touch Base,
To feel once again, the warmth of your face.
Oh God, My God, We fell out of touch,
I became self-reliant,
When your voice fell silent,
Oh God, Why stop giving? Did I ask for too much?

Oh God, my god, You left me alone,
Alone to speak of a cold empty throne.
Oh God, my god, like a ship lost at sea,
I long for the war,
I don’t fight any more,
Oh god, hands over my eyes, but now I can see.

Oh god, my god, I know you arnt there,
I gave you my all, like longs needing air.
Oh god, my god, books back on the shelf.
I’ve been granted reprieve,
I no longer believe,
Oh god, there’s no god, so I speak to myself.

If there is a god in the sky
why did he gave us so many tears to cry,
why did he give us a body
that can only give us pains and false pleasure.

If there is a god in the sky
why are there so many who die
not knowing more than a fly
not knowing how to ask why.

If there is a god in the sky
why did he give me this body I hate
and the only thing he says to me
is: "Girl just do what you can"

If there is a god in the sky
why do we die, why do they die
and leave us only with tears to cry
and leave us alone in a world that is vane.

If there is a God in the sky
why aren't we born alike
why do so few hold so much
while others die not knowing none.