The Designer Poem by john tiong chunghoo

from now i would call him
the Designer, not God
because that leads to
too much struggle and fight
to pin down who he really is

the Designer drives the world
and this physique working it l
ike he works the stars,
the constellations, harnessing them
since the day he started them all

you dont have to believe
you dont have to disbelieve
you just need to sit down
to feel the space blasting
in you, the cells renewing
themselves like stars throwing
its light and another world to us
the flowers budding to give us
another world, of spring, of hope,
each cell propelled by a divine force,
unfolding a painting the shades and
shapes of the promise of a paradise

the hill gives a path to the feet
of the water so that it can beat a step
in triumph to the river, to the sea
and the lake

the water grows wings too
all the way to the sky
so that it continues
the cycle of the Designer
in his love of life, life, life
some blasting away a million trillion
miles away, some resting in venues
so close you you cannot even hear them -
the way catfish dozes off in its secret
crevice, the way your heart pump
right in the centre of your frame