We Little Gods

When does the child
become the enlightened man
and judge some galaxy
as his father had planned?
Still we have a crib, this earth
and are wrapped in diapers, our bodies;
and the heavens are yet
as mobiles above our heads.
Though we make stinky messes
to play in without a care,
somehow we are cleaned
and our sheets are made white.
And often we discover
something new to our sight;
a stone, a life, a thought
then we scream with a child's delight.

How far can we see,
what depth or distance,
of things that be?
What is it we hear?
A breath, our calling,
or someone's tear?
Can we touch a spirit
of God, or Demon?
Who will dare it?
How much can we creatures know
by reason, or with spirit?
What heights will mankind go?
Beyond the stars and darkness
or wondrous imaginings;
no Heaven will contain us,
not even God.
Wars and sickness are nothing,
even as death.
For things will always happen,
and we'll always be blessed.
If not now, then tomorrow,
whatever we want;
because Destiny is for us,
we little gods.