Holy Smokes?

when the planet was younger, and the nations they formed

the people straight knew they weren’t God.

Seeking peace and their lands to be watered and warmed

they would do a thing awesome and odd.

Lighting a torch and with crops in their hands

they would lift up a flame to the heavens

asking the Maker of skies and Sea-sands

to bless each of their days by the sevens.

The aromas they cooked did the job in the jet-streams

floating their incense to space

so that kingdoms above received needs of extremes

so that God might just lower His face

But then one day a sprite of the earth,

a salesman with mischievous thoughts,

grabbed hold of a plan and began to give birth

to a plot to undo Earthen knots

“Why bother the skies, why depend on the Lord”?

“Why send precious smoke to the angels?”

“We are the kings to buy what we afford?”

“Why chase further what Avalon dangles?”

“Let’s light flame to ourselves

and ingest our own humor

We’ll be gods of our whim and our fancy”

“take these sticks from the elves,

let us make a new rumor,

that from here men control their romancing”

“If we wish to shine,

to make prayers of our smoke,

if we want to honor our yearnings,

then let pride be our mine,

and self-worship our yoke,

Let us breathe our own sparks of our burnings.”

— and so they did!