“The Quiet King” by Thom Foy

I stood on the summit
waiting for God,
when a great and mighty wind came
and shook the mountain.
But God was not in the wind.

Then the earth quaked
and shattered the rocks.
But God was not in the quake.
And the fire came,
but God was not in the fire.

Then as I stared
into the mouth of the cave,
the last stones tinkling into silence,
the last charred stick cracking,
extinguished,
a gentle whisper, so still and so small,
Spoke.

Thom Foy