Praise #41: For God So… the World


When I look out at this world, I say to myself,

I cannot love this world for what it sometimes appears as:

A standalone cosmic freak, spinning in near-perfect

proximity to the parameters of life:

The atheist’s dream of a godless earth,

unforgiving, unloving, cold, eventually ashen death

a static vacuum, memories of a jagged dash

This is not my world.

 

My world is

God’s perfect Creation

depths rumbling with his bass delight

The inner cauldrons of souls begging those

who look askance,

The flares of far-off nebulae reminding us of

His limitless expanse

 

the hum of a distant dimension

crashes down on a beach, drenching the sand

with living liquid

and we drink

 

Oh, the smart savor of God’s earth:

This is the world in which I live,

not the other:

ruled by crooked men and ungentle women

where thieves bundle silicon spoils in sacks of cyber titanium

hording billion-dollar barrels of earthslime

teaching their young to forsake the Master-builder.

 

That world flamed up already

(remember, not two Tuesdays ago?)

erring forces agreed disagreeably to push

the pages stained with acidic ink

unbelieving bile

then a distant roar

carried nigh as a most frightening wave

the man carrying the mail? he went

it’s believed that not everyone

got vaporized

poured into sand and left delinquent

for the oncoming ash storm

 

No, like this:

for God so

3:16ed

the world

He gave his only

begotten

file that…

 

they do move about up there, sometimes in

more ways than once,

greeting other denizens of light

toying playfully the fabric of praise-songs

repeating carefully the admonitions

written into the joypages of Holiest Writ

Oh come unto me, good Father,

teach me Thy Son’s raw patience

as I sit at the exit ramp

trying to avoid

the impregnable crush of untrusting metal

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About Pete Mladineo


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