by Nick Gisburne
They called it scripture, stories of a god,
Who no one, even they, had ever seen.
Remarkable, yet altogether odd.
To match their master’s prowess I was keen.
For proof I could be equal to a king,
I offered them, as evidence, a test,
A show of strength, of power, anything,
A challenge built for both of us, the best.
They looked at me with pity in their eyes,
But saw that I was certain I was right.
“You cannot make that mountain, yonder, rise,
Or snatch the sun, or set the seas alight.”
“I can, and what is more, my friends, I will.
But let him do it first.” I’m waiting, still.
