My Gods are of a Different Hue

Little I care for the divinities of men,
Those hollow gods,
Standing on shallow ground,
Those man-made graven images,
To which men pray,
Seducing them to serve their petty cause,
Their wars and little grievances,
They ask them to espouse.

If gods be bought
With flattery like this,
Cheap to secure,
They are no gods,
But less than men,
Of this you can be sure.

The power which did shape this universe,
Which circumscribes the path of sun and moon,
Lends us this mortal breath of life,
Incomprehensible and infinite,
Is far removed from our petty strife.

There is a scheme of things,
Which serves its own and hidden ends,
A claim to grasp its ultimate reality,
Would for mere mortal men
Be blasphemous pretense.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2005 Alfred Charasz