Godot of the Sparrow

God of the sparrow,
you know.
But so what if you are a divine spider,
eight periscope eyes
spying our amateur tragedy
awkward tears.
Isn't it rather an insult that
the field lilies are clothed in the morning
and every bulge eyed bird has your attention
but we, your
"little lower than the angels"
must only wait for you?
and talk of going.
If paradise cannot be here, I don't want it
and if paradise is only more of being watched by you, what is it?
Didn't you sneeze eternity into us, like damp tissues?
Haven't we an invitation to form the Holy Quantity?
What are we waiting for?
The sparrow has fallen,
the grass of the field withered and thrown,
our turn.
Verily, I say unto you, unless a seed falls
to the ground and dies, it
will never grow to
bear anything.

dec 11, 08