Not For a God

I see a spark.
It lights up the night like a firecracker
and fits in the palm of your hand,
like a small, soft animal, warm and wet from birth.

You smile when we fan the flame;
we smile when you smile, and when you open it's warmth to us.
There is no-one you cannot touch; your spark burns in us all,
and makes our night a little lighter,
our burden of sleep a little easier to bear -
making it through the night isn't always easy.

We laugh to think that if you touched enough people,
you'd set the whole world alight with the sweetness of your passion,
one crimson sun setting into another as night turns into day,
one joyous night of wild revelry in the face of all that's worth defying.

Never is one night enough. But for us, tonight,
the night is all we have, and that is always more than enough
to keep pride, hope, and our love of you alive.
You will never burn us, leaving scars to tell the tale of your brutality,
would never even singe the hair of one caterpillar-like eyelash
by accident or choice.

Though you hold the power to spit in the eye of your fellow human,
you will always rise above temptation and lay waste to the carrion of a corrupted soul.

Weaving lights through our mind's eye with your fingertips,
a banner blowing gently in the hot air, signaling hope for humanity,
stroking the cheek of a tear-stained child smiling for joy of your touch,
lifting the melancholy sorrow that touches the hearts of billions,
one booming laugh the sound of dozens dancing, clapping at once,
asking not what you would have us do but what we would have us do,
loving every minute of our presence and taking it all in - the good, the bad, the ugly,
the sad, the joy and tears all as one, and never asking why or judging good and evil.

With open hands spilling sparks, you show us what we might become,
and from your dream we conjure a hope that we can learn about ourselves,
become ourselves, and create ourselves anew.