For His Names Sake

There is only one person in the universe

and he is a lie.

 

No throne in his nothingness, no lightning bolt

can describe his inscrutability

his blind immortal eye.

 

Alone, he invents armies of children

to disobey him.  They reinvent him

in multiple disguises.

 

He ignores their games.

 

Child, you are but a passing fable

told by a drunkard on a stormy night.

 

Come, climb these stairs up to the attic

meet your father.

 

Look, he is a bespectacled fellow in

a yarmulke reading a yellowed newspaper.

 

He hands you a slice of bread and a pickle

the bread crumbles in your grip to star dust

the pickle is a comet dipped in green vinegar.

 

You turn to thank him and he is gone.

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© Johnmichael Simon

2014

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