Hand up to the sky

I put my hand up to the sky,

I put my hand up,

I try to grab the clouds,

I try to grab the clouds,

I try to pull them down,

I try to lay upon them,

I try to lay upon the ground,

and I am sure that God,

God is looking down upon me with a frown,

and I do not blame him,

because humans cause such chaos and disorder,

upon the Earth,

the Earth of which he once was so proud,

and I shout up to him,

but he does not shout down,

and God,

he is probably is miserable these days,

and does not probably care much at all,

and God, he sits above it all,

he sits above the Earth,

and is probably much more interested in the other planets,

which cause him less trouble,

and these days of them,

he probably is more proud,

so, I put my hand up to the sky,

I put my hand up,

and I try to grab the clouds,

and I want to feel close to God,

as close as nature will allow,

and though I want God to be happy,

I wish he would care more,

because he never seems to be around,

and I wonder if he is lonely,

and I wonder how he gets around,

and does God wear really cool sunglasses,

and in a gigantic snazzy spaceship,

does he fly around?

I wonder,

but wherever he is,

thank you, God, 

for the beauty of the sky,

and the clouds and the heavens,

a wonder that I never tire of,

a beauty of which he should be incredibly proud.

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