God Irrelevant.

The God grows too
To do so It has to keep
Drinking the divine
For the paradise may too die
If God returned to rest,
But it goes inside the mud
To keep itself going,
It knows of the play and the players and about all
The philosophers and the doctors too,
Waits for the suns and the nights too,
In solitude it dreams of gardens,
And keeps drinking the wine,
What have I to do with God then?
Nothing and then nothing again,
In me
There are regrets of so many
Saints and sages,
There are future worries of
Politicians yet to come,
In memory of these that were, are and will be,
I have nothing do with IT,
I can have nothing to do with IS.