Come join me in my church,
Here in the great outdoors.
Just grab a limb and perch –
No ceiling and no floors.


Take time to look around,
At all there is to see.
Plants growing from the ground -
Now there’s a mystery.


Small animals dart past.
Yes, lots of insects, too.
Their short lives go by fast -
In that, they’re much like you.


I won’t pass the basket -
Out here there’s small upkeep.
Have a question? Ask it.
All my advice is cheap.


Theology degree?
None that I can display,
Although it seems to me
Anybody can pray.


Ask yourselves, if you will -
What real proofs have you seen?
Does mere “faith” fill the bill?
The truth now - please come clean.


Answers, I can’t provide,
To questions so profound
That from clerics they hide,
Or stand on shaky ground.


To books I don’t refer.
Though the Bible is fine
As man’s literature -
Not word of the Divine.


Back before folks could write,
They spun fabulous tales,
How else explain the night
And sky, o’er which stars sail?


They were thinking out loud,
Orally, keeping track.
Trying to lift the shroud
Where answers they would lack.


Now, we’ve advanced so far,
It’s written in some book.
The Bible, the Torah,
Give the Koran a look.


Organized religion
Has sure secured its place.
Yet, picking the right one
Divides the human race.


I offer no tales here
In this wild forest glen.
No prophets will appear,
Nor rules reduced to ten.


Would you believe me, friends,
If I said trees could walk?
Or that this boulder bends,
Or this cute chipmunk talks?


No miracles to give,
In this church of the glen,
But here I know Truth lives,
Elusive to the end.


 

© RickMack (Rmrickmack@aol.com)

 

 

 


Watch these pages for more poems by RickMack.
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poems and stories by our other authors.


Joys Of Meditation

Leaves Of Fall

Momma's Dishes

Fly On The Wall

Shadows

Meadow Of Dreams

Wyoming



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The music is 'Solitude'