they lord, forgive them for what they do not know,
forgive them for their conceived notions
of your will and your testament,
they lord, they know not who they be.
they lord, let them clamor across the earth
from city to city, desert to desert,
locking arms and swaying in the dead air,
let them counsel and murder and usurp
like a slow moving mold over everything.
they lord, help them understand your deity,
let them see you are not as they say you be,
you vengeful titan, you caring parent,
let them see you are but globs of antimatter
that will destroy everything if you become too great.
they lord, they know not what they know,
they know not your faceless effigy
swirling and burning out there in all that dark,
consuming in ultimate finality without judgment,
not a being but a force that has shook the universe
without so much as a breath.
they lord, they cannot grasp divinity
and seek only your infinity, a scrap of your essence,
they lord, let them wander endlessly
in search of your estate, your cathedral of stars,
they lord, they lord, they do not know you are not they.
-S.C. Martinez
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