I admire a belief in nothing, the latent courage of atheism. I don’t have it.

To assign no other-worldly interest
to the everyday beauties in our lives-

the sunset reflected off the window across the street,

the faint sound of children’s laughter in a park,

– the call

the calling –

from seagulls in a loose protest against loneliness,

stubborn trains moaning across the continent,

half snoring, half swearing grandmothers, stumbling through dreams like a child learning to ride a bicycle,

the raindrop dance of fingers on a keyboard:

All these things,

and so many more

call out to us

each moment

whispering to us

that oblivion is not the father of the universe

and we are connected in an ineffable way that can’t be understood.

Back to the the atheists-

the idea that Santa Clause is God
is equally as absurd as the idea
that there is no God.

So don’t wait
for the placid little park bench
to invite you to the callings-
pray with every cell that you are alert to them;
that you yourself are a calling-

Telling the farthest star that you can see
that it is not alone
and that its light is part of your love.