Do repost and rate:
God walks right next to me since I can remember
across the barren paths of this no world.
It is a giant made of piled rocks, human form but no features in the head;
Its shadow covers me from the heath of the dying sun,
by nights It re-shapes into a bizarre sphere to keep me warmth;
when I do wrong, It strikes me with the back of Its hand,
throwing me meters away, where I lye for months,
waiting for the bones to heal, with It next to me;
when I do right, It makes appear a flower suddenly in the path,
and I contemplate it and cherish in ecstasy, as moving forward, always forward.
I don?t mind the pain, or the gesture itself in the strike,
but why does It have to take the flower away every time?
