I've heard mention,
of a choir of angels,
A myriad of angels,
acappella,
Sounding like a thunderous orchestra,
Singing unto the Almighty,
This concept I can understand,
An All-powerful creator,
Would require an amazing soundtrack,
Background vocals of creation,
Filling Him with whelming tears and pride,
Perhaps choking-back tears,
As word became light,
And heaven and earth were created.
I suppose again too,
Like any King,
He would have other court appointees,
A muse perhaps,
To inspire His creations,
A scribe to record His every breath, sigh and description,
At last a jester,
To amuse Him between acts,
A folly,
A clown.
I still exist,
Here, In the mortal realm,
To continue to make the Architect of the Universe,
Laugh His ******* *** off,
As I dance and perform silly tricks,
To amuse and distract Him,
from the serious business,
Of being God.