None Besides

They don’t have our God.

And so they quake as with the earth

and shudder like the trees

while frosted winds assail.

They trip and tremble on their way;

unknowing and unknown,

they cast for solid ground

but never find a hold.

Their rock is not our rock.

And so the water raving waves

sweep away their souls

and bear them out to sea:

a house not built to last.

They wander, wide, the flying dove

that Noah sent in hope

looking: for a branch

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