A small speck in a spectacular church.
I seek some smaller, simpler works.
A green man worms through wooden leaves,
struggling for freedom from nature.
Blank eyes return my straining stare.
Sharp sculptings scratch my cautious touch.
Brooding, symbolic soul,
stalker of the psyche.
Nature greedily grips the green man,
growing through gaping eyes and nose,
reaching for modern eco-man,
who disputes to his final throes.
Sometimes I wonder
If shooting stars
Are the santas to our wishes
Or just punishment to men.
Shooting stars,so seldom, so rare,
Are believed to be the core of our prayers.
However, whenever a star passes by,
A man on earth is judged by the stars.
God created earth
Man created destruction
God created trees
Man created disruption
God created rain
Man created pollution
God created man
Man created Greed
God created love
Man created Cheat
God created peace
Man created execution
God created rest
Man created death
God created commandments
Man created laws
God created us
Man created mistrust.
"What on earth have you done my Dear Man", he cried, and
lugubriously he cried it again, his arms up,
ferociously flailing like a mad man, howling,
for he missed the sound of the wild wolfing shout.