And Having Writ
The First Digit
scribes names upon a Page,
By each the sigils:
birth and death,
What do they look
like? No one knows,
There are no cameras
in heaven.
Photograph God? it's
just not done,
Hubble has been on
the case for years,
Has found neither
Hide nor Hair,
Nothing.
Each of us must wait
to see
How all of us,
disparate men and women
Could have been made
in His image.
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