I write about
The mundane
And find God
Has left me clues
About who we are
Like crumbs
Spilled from a child's
Afternoon snack
Left for me to
Sweep up into
The receptacle I call
My thoughts
Swirling tea leaves
Whose patterns
slowly emerge
hardship
wealth
sorrow
joy
hate
love
Speaking volumes
Without uttering
a single
word
I give voice
To the mundane
Hoping to reveal
Its hidden language
And unlock within our hearts
The ability to see
Truth
To transcend pettiness
And build a world of
Limitless love
Only then will we shed
Our need for religion
Because we will see that
There is nothing
that exists
That is not
God
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