in search of the small god

in these days when being big is believed to be everything
everything of importance both for the large and the small
when the belief one holds carves large gods on the soul

i search for the small god
the idol who has no where to rise
who is hidden from the dregs of the large
cloaked in the thoughts of the common
clouded in the churches of the saved
worn of the  heads of wandering crowds

i search for the small god who speaks to the heart
to the hurt the pained the lame the sharp
who touches wounds with silent healing
and whispers assurances that all will be well

abnormal savior jostling about the chaotic quiet
offering elixir that's here yet not
set upon a golden plate of yesterdays gone
a promise assured by rising from the dead

we have no gold but the daily grind for peace
shining within eyes peeking beyond the leaves