God's Arse

God's Arse

He shat on barren rock,
a million microbes swimming in the stench.
For a billion years they cleaned up the mess,
slowly coalescing into us,
the progeny of shit and piss,
the effluent of God's sweet ass.

And so we played the games
of little gods and goddesses,
tasted honeyed waste with forking tongues,
flailed our arms, our voices wailing,
saw mirrored deep in our bird-poop eyes,
the awesome Presence of God.

© Kåre Enga 2008 [164.460] 2008-01-12