O, there’s this fellow named Walt,
Of the earth he’s the salt,
He’s got views on God
Of which I must give a nod.
You could peg him a pantheist
Like Danny Baldwin on the B-list
To him there’s no guy
On a throne up in the sky,
Though he calls God a “bedfellow”-
Such a scandalous thing to tell-o!-
To him, “God” and Nature
are synonymous nomenclature.
Walt’s more concerned with what he feels and sees,
The pain and beauty of living, not to mention morning glories.
He talks not of the beginning or end,
Discussion of an afterlife quickly he will rend.
Walt strongly feels that he is deathless,
That “nothing, not God, is greater than one’s self is”,
And there is a child who once asks
Innocently, impossibly, “What is grass?”
A silly answer comes, unsure,
“I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord”?
But Walt is not satisfied with such a broad view,
But another argument he has in lieu,
There is “inspiration in real objects today”
It is a view he does never betray,
And in a revelation, he says, much like a diamond from coal,
“They shall not deign to defend immortality or God or the perfection of things or liberty or the exquisite beauty and reality of the soul.”
Walt is a genius, there is not a doubt,
He leaves other thinkers in a corner to pout.