Let us heave
those sittings
in totality, that
plat a silent form,
the unbecoming of
thoughts and its imagery;
sipping netarine faith
in truer understanding of His love:
The merger of me, and
His divinity into mine
No Hitchens, nor Dawkins
drew any reason, to faith;
neither Khuswant or Russel
had any repo with practical atheism
Count not, my leather skin
in beauty by 'Olay' cream;
or,
with 'Wild man', the bear conditioning dream.
All beauty, sag
bearing the brunt of time
The parody is explicitly
a flaw, a crack;
into His divine will
No Hitchens, nor Dawkins ...
No comments:
Post a Comment