i dont do churches
with stained glass windows
and pews, and copper plates
held by hands beckoning salvation...
my church is lined by trees,
with great rolling hills,
wild animals roam freely,
birds fly overhead!
i dont do dogma,
hellfire and damnation....
we speak compassion
with silent voices!
our prayers are hands,
reaching out to help,
with eyes that see sameness,
and hearts that have ears....
knowing that we are what
we do and have done....
there is no coincidence,
nothing happens by chance.
if you want to know that
God is real, if you want
to see God...
look in the eyes
of another human being!
the path to salvation,
the path to being human!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem