When the man walked into the world
He said, "Surely The God does not dwell here"
He hunted for meat, and chewed the pelts
He tied a rope for his waistbelt
He took for water, the snowmelt
At dawn and dusk, penitent, he knelt
But nowhere The God he felt
He stacked stone to make his home
And a roof he thatched for weather to catch
He grew seed for mouths to feed
He matched a labor against each need
Never did The God he see
He took a wife and children after
Gave discipline, love, and laughter
For a time, his hearth was warm
If The God did live, was this its form?
His youngest and his wife took ill
He watched them as their breaths went still
The others grew and left him alone
With his stacked stones and beloved bones
When the man walked from the world
He said, "Surely The God does not dwell here"