God Is Dead

He sat alone on a greensward by the sea,
Wondering at all he could hear, smell and see:
The perpetual whistling that emanated from the waves;
The slender stems that had stretched tall and proud as trees,
Yet he could not make God out of these.

Then he looked at the sun that sank below the horizon,
And marvelled at the uniqueness of every season.
But he saw Him at rest in nature's wonders,
And maintained that God is dead.

But God watched from a nearby cliff;
His face suffused with eternal glory,
And shook his head till it rolled off
His shoulders and bobbled into disbelief.
He froze at his deep conviction.

©️ William Arthur 2019.