You were telling him about Buddha,
you were telling him about Mohammed in the same breath
You never mentioned one time the Man who came
and died a criminal’s death.

Bob Dylan: Precious Angel

If Christ and His gospel are offered you

you squirm — then dredge up the gods of the East.

Your act of avoidance is nothing new;

salvation proposed: evasion increased.

Waxing socialistic (as if on cue)

your blustering is consistent, at least.

you brandish your point of antichrist view,

descending like Darwin: angel to beast.

In Babylon’s gardens you disembark

to deconstruct Noah, the flood, the ark.

On Gilgamesh, Enkidu, in madness

you ramble — and it fills me with sadness.

There is one truth, undiscerned, unadored.

Be still. In silence, acknowledge your Lord.