My God Is A Strange God

This is an extract from a longer poem called “Pilgrims”

My god is a strange god

My god is deaf to your prayers

And blind to your suffering

You are not made in his image

You mean no more to him than an ant, an amoeba, a stone

He does not care whether you live or die

He does not love you

My god is not a loving god

Neither is he a vengeful god

He will not punish your sins or reward piety

He is simply The Way Things Are

There is no escaping him

He is the centre and the edge

He is greater than your vanity

Your presumption of kinship

There is no special relationship between you and him

If you have to leave, he will not shed a tear

He will not regret your passing

He does not deal in preference

His gaze is wider than your myopic squint

Ignore him at your peril

He is the Way that binds all things together

Fall from the Way and you will spin off into oblivion

And the sparrows and the ashes

The coral and the whales

Will not mourn your going

But breathe a sigh of relief

And sing.

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