"My God!" exclaimed the wise one--he was right,
It was his god alone.  Mine's uptight,
Unsure and uncertain as he takes
Each step in darkness, while his mind creates
Something resembling chaos in my eyes.
"My God!" I say, your god is just the type
That you'd like to be--a mighty chief,
Mine's just confused and timid, awkward, stiff.
"My God!" I say, the image that I took
From some old photograph, perhaps a book--
He stumbles slowly through the universe,
My god is the creator of this verse,
It could be gibberish that somehow makes sense,
My god wears glasses, he's dazed and tense,
Looking uneasily at the shifting world--
Yes, God and country--all you've been told
Of the transcendent One is but a lie,
We'll live with gods we make until we die--
Here's the one that's risen over there
With big blue eyes, a beard and long hair--
Another Son of God or Son of Sam,
But, if you ask me, he's just a ham
Who has a way with ladies and with words--
"My God!" I say, inspired by the birds,
"My God!" I say, inspired by the trees,
And I become the sun, the earth, the breeze.

                                             March 28, 1996
                                         --Alexander Shaumyan