About Divinity

The Book of Isaiah. The Book of Revelation.

Abstract paintings. Charts of the Universe.
Thick novels, rife with symbolism, perched
on bookshelves like menacing gargoyles
that guard ancient, sacred, dark cathedrals.
It’s good to keep these things around the house.

Climb the mountain, reach the peak,
and still you will not find a wise man,
nor an up-to-date, all-encompassing dictionary,
nor a cosmological telescope in which to peer,
only an army of charlatans in trench-coats
stocked with knock-off merchandise
and armed with tranquilizer darts.
They’ll get out their guns and shoot you
and then, while you’re fainting,
assure you that they can fathom infinity
and know all there is to know about divinity.

Along the trail, though, you may encounter
a few of your fellow hikers, who will faithfully,
freely recite the words of holy revelations.
Hear them when they speak to you,
for they love God as fish love water.

The fish attempt no transoceanic analysis.
They feign no theology of the water.
They merely live to bubble along,
humming a joyful, fishy song,
and swim and swim and swim and swim,
pausing to pray now and then.