How Often I Do Fool Myself

Have you ever placed Creator on a shelf?

How often I do fool myself
that I am capable
of going through life on my own
with God up on a shelf
collecting dust. Oh, what relief
and shock to find when I
begin to read living truth, it
reads me — convicts belief

I knew I had but lost some time
ago like prodigal
earring finally finding home
in your heel. Shameful crime
I’m guilty of: to know and not
respond. Or worse, to know
and, conscious, choose opposite you.
For your blood I was bought.

Something than which nothing greater
can be thought, the ethic
of your love undergirds every
thing above equator
and below and in what’s unseen
and the hushed chaos in
our atoms’ mostly empty space.
Do you watch us careen,

Heads down, text-necked searching engines
for all of life’s answers?
Is big ‘t’ Tech to whom we
now show our affection?
How often I do fool myself
that I can spout commands.
But, life will never be enough
if God is always shelved.