You were telling him about Buddha,
you were telling him about Mohammed in the same breath
You never mentioned one time the Man who came
and died a criminal’s death.
Bob Dylan: Precious Angel
If Christ and His gospel are offered you
you squirm — then dredge up the gods of the East.
Your act of avoidance is nothing new;
salvation proposed: evasion increased.
Waxing socialistic (as if on cue)
your blustering is consistent, at least.
you brandish your point of antichrist view,
descending like Darwin: angel to beast.
In Babylon’s gardens you disembark
to deconstruct Noah, the flood, the ark.
On Gilgamesh, Enkidu, in madness
you ramble — and it fills me with sadness.
There is one truth, undiscerned, unadored.
Be still. In silence, acknowledge your Lord.