Knock, knock, knock ...

KNOCK, knock, knock ...
© 2024 by vernonmileskerr.com

KNOCK...
KNOCK...
KNOCK...

DOC-trine...
DOC-trine...
DOC-trine...

The sound of the lid
Being nailed on the box
Where God is kept:
Safely managed,
Bound and packaged,
Simplified,
Demystified,
Proprietarized,
And monetized.

knock...
knock...
knock...

The Real God is calling —
That still, small voice
In the depths of your soul,
The depths of your DNA:

"I am not the God of recent
Invention, the one made in 'Man's' image.
I am the God of your ancient ancestors
Who savored the fragrance of awakened earth
In the ice age glacier-melt.

And even earlier, the God who gave you fire and music

As you were chased
From the forest by closest kin,
Onto the savannas of Africa
To learn a new mode of survival ...
To evolve a set of running legs
Ideal for both hunting food and to avoid being hunted for food.

"Sing not to me 'Old Rugged Cross' nor 'Amazing Grace,' the hymns of the box,
Sing to me the hymns of the stars and the universes beyond."

VMK