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Untitled and Unloved

The other day I asked you about God.

I asked what you perceived Him as, what brought Him to your mind;
Whether He was taciturn or raucous when He dwelled inside your head.
You laughed a bitter laugh and told me that God was a fantasy;
Nothing but a fool's fevered dream.
I grew saddened by this commentary, but persisted.
You dismissed it with a scoff and shook your head,
Ebony hair twirling in the waning daylight.

I told you that God was everywhere,
That even His Holy Name could be rearranged,
Gematriated into “Place”,
Affirming that God was omnipresent.
You shook your head again, laughing a laugh I had learned to love,
Even as my ears were scorched by your words.
You told me that if God had ever been in this place,
Then He had left long ago.

I told you that I spoke to God every day.
You asked me if He'd ever answered.
I smiled.

I told you that I had seen His miracles.
You sighed and told me I was deluded.

I told you of fantastic stories of Biblical proportion,
(Indeed, they were printed in The Holy Book,)
You kissed me and told me to cease my zealous babbling.
And while every particle of my being told me to press on,
To open your eyes to my vision,
I obeyed.

=Zachariah Frost Bishop

Description
Untitled and Unloved

The other day I asked you about God.

I asked what you perceived Him as, what brought Him to your mind;
Whether He was taciturn or raucous when He dwelled inside your head.
You laughed a bitter laugh and told me that God was a fantasy;
Nothing but a fool's fevered dream.
I grew saddened by this commentary, but persisted.
You dismissed it with a scoff and shook your head,
Ebony hair twirling in the waning daylight.

I told you that God was everywhere,
That even His Holy Name could be rearranged,
Gematriated into “Place”,
Affirming that God was omnipresent.
You shook your head again, laughing a laugh I had learned to love,
Even as my ears were scorched by your words.
You told me that if God had ever been in this place,
Then He had left long ago.

I told you that I spoke to God every day.
You asked me if He'd ever answered.
I smiled.

I told you that I had seen His miracles.
You sighed and told me I was deluded.

I told you of fantastic stories of Biblical proportion,
(Indeed, they were printed in The Holy Book,)
You kissed me and told me to cease my zealous babbling.
And while every particle of my being told me to press on,
To open your eyes to my vision,
I obeyed.

=Zachariah Frost Bishop