The cloud and incense smoke have been replaced
With white lab coats and post-name alphabets;
The thick, embroidered veil is now the race
To their chemistry sets.
Oh, we believe in miracles today
We don’t deny the truth, reality:
The glory-clothed King over all still reigns
But hides too well, we think.
Nature hates vacuums, even those of sound;
There is no place where words are not heard.
He is not far, desiring to be found;
He is there–be assured.