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Golden Gates and the starry skies
are images created by men,
covered in canvas, hanging high
gods seem to be a safe haven.
I don’t kneel to painted pictures,
nor statues made by manmade hands.
I don’t pretend to give lectures
about God creating the land.
The booth and preacher I exclude
when my cup is filled to the rim.
I pray at home in solitude,
sharing my love and pain with Him.
His Son listens to what I say,
understands, for He walked this earth.
His love I cherish every day,
His Spirit walked with me at birth.
Someday, I hope to see His smile
as He opens the door for me.
We’ll share a meal and talk a while
that’s when His sight will let me see.
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