God breakdances on the cold, hard, church floors
The worshippers clap
And the priests exclaim
Kicking, spinning, and alive
Two sets of footprints
Left in the sand
Stretching on and on
Fading from view
The gentle waves
Filling in with their paintbrushes
Painting over everything they touch
With shells, seaweed and life
A billion eyes watch from their TVs
Experiencing life behind a screen
I sip my cider and sigh:
“Life is only as hard as I make it.
It’s actually quite easy, I only have to breathe.”
Poetry and Writings - A Mind 