apologies to Edward Taylor
Before select words are made into books,
words are signs of thought by which we talk
back and forth to Elohim, Eloher, or just plain God,
Since we think He, She, or It is behind, or in front of
the Big Bang, is who in this bowling alley bowled the sun,
blued the sky, and taught newborn babies how to cry.
In the beginning is the thought, not the word, it was
light years before we got that far. These myriad stars
we know about, and galaxies of galaxies distributed
perfectly unevenly, seemingly, may hear Elohims,
Elohers, of their own, in which case whose faith is shook:
those who are with, or those who are without books?
those weaned on air, or fed the mead of select books?
Dave Read
Edward Taylor, (1642-1729), born in England, was a poet, preacher, and physician who lived most of his life in Westfield, MA. My poem includes a line taken from his poem, “Preface To God’s Determinations Touching His Elect,” excerpted here:
Who made the seas its selvedge and it locks
Like a quilt ball within a silver box?
Who spread its canopy? Or curtains spun?
Who in this bowling alley bowled the sun?