Humanity yearns so desperately
to equal God’s great creativity.
In some creations, how we shine:
music dance, story weaving, wine.


Then tunderstorms of madnes
rain upon us, flooding sadness
sweap us into darkest, grief,
into despair without relief.


We’re drawn to high castles,
where old hunchbacked vassals
glare wall-eyed as lightning
flares without brightening.


Laboratories in the high towers,
Where the doctor wields power,
creating new life in a dark hour,                 
in the belfry of the high tower.