Poetry


 

 

A chair for God at the top of the hill;
If a burning bush, why not a chair?

God sits there twirling
The stars, his garland round his head,
His feet bathed by ocean tides,
Sees man His world to give.

And God says:
I see my world, it follows my plan;
Why all the complaints when I created man?

Because God Sir, if I may say,
You and your chair are here to stay.
But as for man?

And God says:
Oh, that man can dance!
My oh my, my dingy dong,
That cane does twirl
Those feet do tap.

And God will,
And God will sit,
And God will sit in,
And God will sit in his,
And God will sit in his empty,
And God will sit in his empty chair.
And man will dance and sing and cry…
And carry on His presence there.

~Dick Fox

 

 

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