I want to know of all things God
I want to break him in small pieces
I want to point and poke and prod
And make flat all God’s endless creases
And it shall all make sense to me
God shall fit inside my head
And if he doesn’t logically
He’ll watch my faith go slow to dead
So here’s a tryst, to twist and bind
The mind, its thoughts, no reason find
For once I’ve filed him away inside
His brilliant mysteries shall go dim
When all things God are known to me
Why should I bow myself to him?
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