I do not want your slot machine god
Powered by caprice and uncertainty.
Nor do I want your vending machine god:
Pop in a prayer and out pops a reward.
I want the untamed god
Unknowable as the badgers
Deep in ancient yew woodlands,
Wild as the flight of goldfinches
Bathing exuberantly in a forest pool.
In one glimpse you see more of eternity
And the vast untouchable sweep
Of a deity too broad
To be trammelled by walls and words,
Yet tender to his creatures who
He holds cupped in his wounded palms.