Red Mountain

Red Mountain, Arizona.

 

Prehistoric rocks are spread around and appear to have been

carved by a giant hand in this land where they’ve been docilely

lying and sighing unheard for a million years or more.

 

That’s a bit longer than I’ve been around. If it’s true what

my atheist friends say. I think as I gaze at volcanic

rocks, beguiled by their seemingly immortality.

 

I have my own beliefs and they tell me it could have been my

hand that carved these rocks, or perhaps that as magna I too

got  blown from a volcano in a previous time.

 

I didn’t have to be alive because it’s hard for me to believe

that we’re not all part of the universe dead or alive. There may

be no God or superior being, but there’s something out there

 

that diligently works to see that every part functions as designed.

No Earthling will ever know why, or how it came to be as it is, but

it’s obviously working and we’ll never know why,

 

If it weren’t, could anything on any list exist for a length of time

without exploding, crashing, disintegrating or ceasing to exist?

Why is that I have to ask?

 

No one here has an answer to that, but somewhere out there

it’s taught in grammar school, but not here where we’re told, “Beware,

everything was created by a guy in the sky who’ll send  you to hell.”

 

I don’t believe there’s a God who cares for us more than anything

that exists. So it has come to this, I believe there’s a reason for everything,

and unlike others I know who have an answer, I say, “I just don’t know.”