When I was preciously young,
I went to a 2nd church service with my grandparents.
Yawning and gumming over at the eyes,
I noticed that the cross behind the pulpit glowed white
I considered with my weakly woken mind:
Was there a set of florescent lights backing it?
Tiny floodlights hidden at tight angles?
But I had never seen a lit cross before.
It could have been a sign for me: a miracle.
God visiting a 3rd-ring suburban church,
Leaving holy glow behind the pulpit cross,
So that I could feel…
I didn’t ask anyone about the cross.
I would sound foolish: too eager for miracles.
So I kept my silence, letting it have its ambipotent effect on my beliefs
And I became one of the many
Whose faith has dimmed through the advent of Google.