You Can Pray To My God Poem by Ismim Putera

You can pray to my God
He'll be in here, tonight—
The temple welcomes any spirit
dead or alive, or dying—

He listens what you hear
He speaks what you shout
He whispers what you murmur
He envisions what you dream
He understands what you study
He questions what you ask
He was here when you were there

He made the blood red when you bleed
He made the river flow when you row
He made the sky high when you fly
He made the earth low when you fall
He made the ocean deep when you fish
He made the seed grow when you sow
He made the rain stop when you harvest

He forgets what you recall
He assumes what you suspect
He forgives what you hate
He adores what you cherish
He flashes what you blink

You can pray to my God
He's still here, tonight—
The Temple's gates are closing, hurry!
Hurry!
dead or alive, or dying—