God is just a chunk of ice, stuck in the throat of the sky

God is just a chunk of ice, stuck in the throat of the sky.

It's the theophany of a skeleton.

It's the Thread out of Love, it's the origin in the Soul.

Holy gleams radiate through anthropoid lumps.

It's forever melting in the sun.

Rain is falling through its liquefy.

Rain to fall down to embrace the fears.

To keep the heart forever burning as

as a dance glowing in the eye.

Humanization of a tender outcry.

It lies in its infinity to be intangible.