"There is no God," he claimed, and all creation disagreed.
Thunder shouted His name, wind whispered of His every deed.
But he could only hear the void between ears left and right.
He couldn’t read what the stars wrote; he saw only the night.

“Perhaps God has removed Himself,” he said as God stood near.
The stones cried out to greet Him, but the man refused to hear.
The hills sang while the trees danced, worshipping in green array.
God opened wide His arms; the man closed his eyes, turned away.

"Perhaps God died eons ago,” he smirked as angels sighed.
"Perhaps the whole myth ended on the day that Jesus died."
The birds ignored him as they raised their songs of praises high,
The flowers waved, the grasses bowed, the Living God passed by.

SUSPENDED

Suspended in air
in mid bounce,
It followed me home
through the hills,
Zig-zagging across
with each curve,
Bouncing back and forth
with every turn,
Leaving snail tracks of gold
on the ground,
Shimmer traces of rose
in the road,
As
the
sun
slowly
went
down