If forgiveness was easier for mortal men,
Would it still be considered divine?
If love was simpler for us,
Would people still point at a cross?
If patience was commonplace,
Would they still read dying scriptures?
If acceptance was innate,
Would they need to yell at all?

Vacant pews and busy street corners,
Communion wine misplaced,
The preacher's statements laced,
With the same sins they say were paid for.

The shrinking congregation doesn't believe anymore.
No one does.
But they can keep looking for a savior,
In every place but inside themselves.

We are all filled with the divine light,
Brighter than the sun.
The cosmic radiance we seek is behind the eyes,
Darkened windows that speak our gospel,
We Are God.