God’s spirit

A misshapen bird
Appears beautiful
In carvings found yet
Lost for generations
In daylight flies
Sun burns his wings
In agony
Mutates into thousands
Of humans and Gods
Worshipped into extinction
Remains untouched
In agony
Feeds on the flesh
Of the dead
All that exists
Not the soul
Souls are for deliverance
If they were found
In carvings the only found
Record of
A misshapen bird
And God’s spirit
Worshipped into extinction
The scribes in their agony
Desperately rewrite the story
Desperately seek to capture the
To recreate the
Misshapen bird
Unnoticed by the desperate scribes.

January 20, 2019

About alaindesade

Novelist, songwriter and philosopher. Has special interest in human relations, evolution of mind, inter-cultural complications, and the concept of God.
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