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Greg Peterson Apr 2020
Do you think God laughs?
If so, what at?
Perhaps at some gathering storm...
Or cats?
Or maybe every warm and loving act?

Do you think God cries?
And that’s the rain from the skies?
Does he express his ethereal woes?
Or is the rain the runoff
When he washes his ethereal toes…

Do you think God Cowers?
Like when there’s a spider in the shower…
And if he does, what does he fear?
Is there something up there…
or something here?
Is he afraid of towers?

Do you think God rages?
Does he pout?
Is the thunder when he shouts?
Does the world shake,
Does the ground quake,
When he snores?



Does God have chores?
Greg Peterson Apr 2020
Have you ever had thoughts of the sea?
Ones where the waves ebb and flow dreamily?

Where a tin midnight tide lulls you into lost,
Uncharted parts of a world new and vast.
As a white cumulus sail billows on a mast.

Where neither hindered by cold or frost.
Your stern visage faces what in your wake
Passed ever solemnly on life's solemn lake

And you wonder then, what did it cost?
To break the monotonous protestant fast.
And to begin anew upon the ocean, chains broken, free at last

And the rhythmic crash of that stalwart bow
Follows the beating of your intrepid heart.
And not any embrazoned man, king or knave
Could keep you and your passions apart.

There’s no ancient arbiter to say vainly “Behave!”
So you yell to your heart’s content upon that sea,
As the sweat pours down from your worked brow,
As clear as the midnight sky “Be Free!”



So have you ever dreamt of the sea?
Something you’ve never had,
Yet missed so drearily?

Have you ever dreamt of the sea?

— The End —