Do you still see the hand of God?
Or has that appendage blended,
Into the power of spiritual awareness,
To which I see my fellows so attuned.

I know that God is not a man,
Not a person,
And not a thing,

But I miss my story.
The one about sacrifice, love, and fate,
A great father at the helm,
Directing us through waves that petrify reflexes,

God gentrifies the isolated,
God intimidates iniquity,

And spirituality is for the soul.
But I wish, still, for a better story in this age so new.