…say the skies turn black and everyone we know turn their backs.
As the rain crashes down to the sideways,
the ones who promised they’d love us walked away in disdain.
Say the puddles drown the streets and all that’s left are
the shoes on our feet,
soaking in ice cold desperation and we
can’t find our way back to salvation.

Say that rain makes it up to our waists,
bringing horror to our face when we realize
that we’ll have to swim to stay alive.
Knowing that the town is now in the
midst of a drown-out,
we paddle and paddle until we reach solid ground.

Say it doesn’t exist.
Say that we lose all fearlessness.
Say we panic as the water rises to our necks,
our legs cramp and we have no love left to grasp.

Say our immersed bodies now have
lost any sign of hope and all that’s left
is for us to say goodbye.
If we’re underwater, would we still cry?
If we did, would our teardrops carry the water over
to another city and drown out the next town?

Hypothetically speaking-
let’s just say the storm demolished us this way.
Who then? Who then would we blame?

To whom this may concern:

Perhaps there is sound reason for our slow motion;

Lost in translation in the curves of our rotation.

I missed the best part when I bowed over in frustration

and we lost ourselves in the colors of our infatuation.

Please push me a little further.

If you’re real, God, I need you here.

Remind me that when we’ve reached the bottom

it’s only fear that we should fear.

I suppose there is a plan to perpetuate

the innocence of our father’s faith.

Well, I’m begging and pleading for one unlikely sign

to prove the merit of waiting alone in this line.

Please grant me a little patience.

If you’re true, God, I need your hand

to help me build the courage 

to build my apprehension.

There is no mystery in my struggle to find

a definitive answer in the pages bound to your follower’s hands,

but the crisp autumn breeze and a canine’s pure loyalty

speak truth more coherently than any book can.

If it’s a fact that there are more stars in the universe

than grains of sand on this earth

it’s disparingly plausible that as small as our problems are

we still manage to put ourselves first.

But our equations are consistantly lacking

one variable that guides our feet away from catastrophe.

If your presence is intristic to this, God, please be fair with me,

and I’ll be honest when I say that despite my tendency

to question your possibility,

I’ll keep my eyes open in probability.

Just please be fair with me. 

I need this atheist to rest in peace.