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A multitude of gods
For a multitude of peoples;
A multitude of faiths
For a multitude of faces.
And yet I wander through this vast
Bizarre bazaar of truth
In love with you,
With only you,
The Lord of all that is.
A multitude of meanings
For a multitude of phrases;
A multitude of rituals
That bind one fast to life.
And yet I wander through this vast
Bizarre bazaar of truth
In love with you,
With only you,
The Lord of all that is.
How can I believe in you
When you are one of many,
And pass that faith on to my children's
Children undisturbed?
How can love for you remain
The passion of their being,
When passion is a marketplace
Where people try on words?
A multitude of ways
To a multitude of endings;
A multitude of rights against
A multitude of wrongs.
And yet I wander through this vast
Bizarre bazaar of truth
In love with you,
With only you,
The Lord of all that is.
How can there be beauty in
This thing we call America,
Where contradictions cradle in
Familial embrace?
How can love admit that there
Are lovers just as lovely,
When in the teeth of death
We have worshipped only you?
A multitude of friends,
Lovers, husbands, wives, and children;
A multitude of powers to which
Multitudes might pray.
And yet I wander through this vast
Bizarre bazaar of truth
In love with you,
With only you,
The Lord of all that is.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
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