Seeking inspiration without God amounts
to leaning back, feet up on the desk,
hoping sunshine will penetrate, expand
into a windowless room, and calfacient
ignorance from emptiness into truth.
Dedication applied without God equates
to momentumless alarm clocks structuring
days, existence without exertion, priorities
falling on a strait line, and joy clicking
monotone like a heart monitor recording death.
Hope sought without God seeks itself,
looking down prostrated arms toward
fingertips gripping tear-wetted pillows,
cries uttered as escape and not pleading.
Life without God forgets others, succumbs
to selfish urges of pitiless recompense,
wanders with the moving shadows seeking
sunlight, evaded by forms of what
truly exists.
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