We blame Him; He has broad shoulders.
We seek His truths; He shrouds them
In riddles we do not understand.
Why is a raven like a writing desk?
Is good and evil nothing more
Than nature
And will?
What if angels don't actually dance?
And what about the platypus?
We offer our own answers
When He is silent
Busy
Elsewhere
Off creating
Or watching the works
Endless, cycling, a rider on the storm.
He might ask us why we fight,
How do we keep finding causes
In His name?
"The world is my country, "
Young Huygens said,
"and science my religion"
A third of a millennium ago
And God
Flashed
His limitless grin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting points and lots to consider in this particular piece. Nicely done!