Now, we find the skyfish has taken hold.

His once clouded scales have come alive

In a shimmering rainbow, bright and bold,

And he swims in the sky for all to see.


I watch as all the voices around me

Light up like they had just seen a lover.

There are festivals for miles to see

Each with their own, new, succulent delights,

And the children run with their skyfish kites.

I wonder how many have read my books?

Has the pen been overcome by websites,

Who stole His words and used them as their own?


For this is not the world I was shown.

He gave me words to make the truth shine through—

To bring eyes to the magic paths He’d flown

Yet in the stead of my books I see blogs.

No one reads the words I’d carefully logged.

Still, I hear His voice calling out to me,

Over the screeches of the demagogues,

Like the low hum of thunder on the wind.


He flies out to find all those who have sinned,

To drown the ranks of rot and filth and lust.

He purges their ranks until they have binned

The infectious bacteria of life.

A man proclaims love to his brand new wife

But his eyes drift to his secretary.

She, herself, took an oath against the knife

To join her blood in with His covenant.

Though we see the truth that has come of it:

That the weakness of man poisons His sea.


Yet still He calls to me from the big blue;

I wonder if pride has blinded Him too?



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