God Almighty

The hand of God may never write the poetry of man’s mind.

Yes, we are superior.

The child of man may never know the love that gave its mind; yet the mother of mankind has always.

In the morning, the soil is healthy; ready to mould the soul.

How is it that the man’s side is stronger than his hand or his fist?

How is it that our mother bares no weapons, money or ‘power’ in the human sense?

It is because the arms she bares are in use; in this moment, in the next and the one before.

Her arms, present from the start of time, through the times we wished it all ended, 1914, 1939.

War, are you thinking of our world at war? The arms that carried war belonged to a Man.

The man in the clouds.

 The man in scriptures.

The man that tore a rib from Adam’s side, instead of moulding from our mother’s soil.

Our mother’s arms simply held the world together.

The good book tells us we are the descendants of sinners.

In my opinion, only man is, God’s man.

A woman’s beauty rose from our mother’s garden.

A Man’s vice fell from God’s one.

I am a man, and I am who I am.

So, why do I call her mother? It is because she adopted me.

 A man’s vice might triumph over our mother and her daughters, but mine will not.

My mother wrote the poetry of nature, something God could never do. My mother is nature; and she has nurtured my soul.