The atheist defends God. The mind of the atheist begins
Where the voice inside his mind began.
He cannot stand to think that when he thinks of sinning, he sins.
This is why he cannot doubt, and when he doubts, he can.
He rejects all the ways, which are not all the ways.
This is how he receives amounts, and pays.
His is the proof of what is not himself, for it always returns to him—
Walking on land, flying on land, or walking, in order to swim.
He doesn’t think he is defending God.
That’s too small, he thinks, too odd,
And the very large places
Are stretched out, and can’t have faces.
Nothing is familiar, except what he can see,
Falling off into frightful infinity—
Which doesn’t frighten him at all.
See, this is the point. Placidly, sadly, the atheist knows all.
His all-encompassing thought
Is where God by lesser minds is sought.
The place he names is the place he names:
The stratagem of earth. The faint logic of games.
He isn’t what he is, and this is why he is. And then, a dim,
Furtive notion: Something’s using him.