"Don't make me come down there!",
signed, GOD, on some sponsor's mega-billboard.

I cursed at what I had seen:
the failure of eyes to see Presence all-around,
exciting ev'ry molecule and atom and sound.

I could have wept but pitied instead
the blind believers framing God so frightfully mean,
hatred hot in his eyes for what he sees,
poised to rip his beauteous creation apart,
tearing us to shreds for our few or many sins.

But sighs arose from my mouth instead,
watching light fill the foggy morning sky.
It felt like the other side of the Deluge
and I was Noah, blessed to hold the messenger dove.