He must think
we are, how we
accept
so much
assigning to it
the mystery of life.
resilient to death
and pain.
still believing, still
with faith.
does He laugh at our
folly,
at us, trying to figure
it all out,
asking why,
why why, each day.
how can He not Love us
as we start over
like the ants do,
when their world
is brushed away.
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