The Impersonal God


I know no god far off, impersonal,
nor need allay with muddy clarities
my house’s cornerstone, unmovable,
as some of their god speak, words ill at ease.
For foundations cannot be sought except
that they should disposition adamant
possess. Yet how can one call a precept
the Heavenly Father, Spirit present,
or virgin born child? How can one not?
The stone is struck. It bleeds healing waters.
To these I thirsty came, and thus was bought,
forsaking claim to be the truth’s author.
The erudite impersonal god fades,
unable to replace Christ’s brilliant rays.

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