Seeking God

Were You Taught,
as I Was,
That You Must
Seek God?

As If
Our Maker
Is Hiding from Us,

Separated from Us,
By Rows of
Esoteric Texts,
or
Words That Can
Only Be Spoken
By Saints and Sages,
or
Visions Shown Only
To Those Who Practice
Meditation
At Least An Hour
Every Day.

To Those Who
Embrace Such Disciplines,
I Tip My
Faded Baseball Cap.

But, What If
We Are Each
Facets of Our Maker,
Divine Alter Egos,
Without Exception?

What If
We Are Always
At the Heart of
An Embrace,
Closing In Around Us,
With Endless Warmth and
a Grasp of Laughter

At the Notion
We Must Seek
The Love That Finds Us
In Every Endless Moment?

Once I Imagined
The Maker Was Jealous
of The Music I Was
Listening To,
My Heart Dancing.

I Swear I Heard
The Maker Say,

“Just Think of Me As
That Drummer,
Because
I Am.”

(Photo By Wesley Tingey; UnSplash)

 

Soul to Soul

Imagine Your Soul
Came Into Your Body,
Hidden In Your Mama,

Loaded With
The Gifts
You Wanted to
Pass Around to
The Rest of Us
Souls In Bodies.

Gifts of Love
Wrapped In

The Love of Music,
Sung or Danced, or
Played with
Instruments Created
as Another’s Gift,

Perhaps a Passion to
Arrange Bouquets of Words
In Vases of Story or
Oratory or
Riffs of Rhyme or
Rants or Reason.

Maybe Your Soul
Bears Offerings
Brushed Onto Canvas, or
Streamed On a Screen, or

Sawed and Hammered
Into Shelter for
Our Soul-Filled Bodies.

Naming and Numbering
Gifts
Is as Infinite as
The Souls
Who are Without
Beginning or End.

Some Say
Our Souls
Joined Our Bodies
To Be Birthed Into
A School of
Hard Knocks.

But What If
We Came Here On
a Treasure Hunt,

To Find
These Gifts
The Maker Hid
In Our Souls,

With The Grin
That Lights
The Stars.

(Photo by Sebastian Dimitru; UnSplash)