God and Michelangelo paint a ceiling
‘And now, ladies and gentlemen,
above you – ladies, it’s easier with
the mirror from your purse…
Monsieur, Signor, Mein Herr…
we’ve come to
The Big Moment…’
the moment for which
tourists gather; temples fill;
saints and monks fall to their knees;
contemplatives fall silent;
even angels hold their breath;
all Creation for a moment, still;
look around, the beauty of it all:
the earth so warm and fresh
under the morning sun;
rivers sparkle among greenest trees
full of breeze and birdsong;
does this perfection lack?
One thing. The one, which may in time
unite all this; destroy all this.
It cannot be the Lord God Himself, seen
walking in the garden in the cool of the evening,
in this paradise which is Himself;
even God must keep His, God’s, own rules;
no, it must be His representative upon His earth,
made in His image - but according to Earth’s scope..
The tourists gawp, or are struck humble
with some unexpected thought. Stay too long like this,
craned neck, and older visitors may faint…
God – who for a moment, must resemble Man
in order to achieve this earthly moment –
stretches out His finger… His reflection,
this mindless, aimless, half-awake and muscle-conscious hulk,
is moved to imitate the action; reflecting,
as do the lady tourists’ hand mirrors
faintly dusted, scented, with face powder;
(a surreptitious dab; it’s hot in here with all the lights..)
But painters, even with God’s aid,
cannot paint a spark like that.
That over-muscled body will soon trim down
when he must chase his breakfast
through the jungle.. life’s not going to be all
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Shepherd
Added by Poetry Lover
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