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…

Well something.

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

For years.

And I became one of the many

Whose faith has dimmed through the advent of Google.

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