You want me to read your holy scriptures.
But all I need to do is take a walk.
You call me therefore unsaved.
You point to your holy scriptures as proof.
You quote me chapter and verse,
thinking that somehow settles the matter.
But it doesn't.
I need no pages,
no holy men,
Least of all do I need you.
The birds bubble up from the inlet's waters,
slip back under again.
Gulls argue above me.
A vast ocean at my feet waters the world, serene and more powerful
than your readings and saints and visions of Beyond,
so much so that writing the comparison puffs up the unworthy and damns the worthy.
I'm sorry for that.
You pore over that book because you are blind, deaf, and dumb to the Truly Holy.
From For It All
Photography: Contemplation by Shawn Michel de Montaigne