POEM: No Longer on Speaking Terms with God

I am no longer on speaking terms with
She keeps pouring drink into my cup overflowing
And I no longer have the to say when
Only ever with a rye smile
Would she say to me “eat me”
She is so much better bred than that
She is the host for me
And not often best served en masse

Words and rituals will always fall short of the true glory of .  However, this doesn’t mean that we can’t in a and robust way.  With tongue-in-cheek, God “rudely” keeps heaping blessings upon me, in such a way that if I fully take it in, then I will likely appear as a babbling drunk in most any conventional setting.  I’m not sure what more to say, except that I am eager for my next visit to God’s speakeasy!

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