Grandfather

Where did God come from?

An orphan child is marooned

Upon a deserted island.

Ever since he can remember,

He has crawled in its underbrush

And eaten of the fruit of its trees.

He basked, he played in the sun

He hid from the rain in the shade.

Soon, he grows up,

And begins to seek his purpose.

He combs the island, from coast to coast

And finds that a vast ocean

Surrounds him on every side

And he lacks the craft to craft a craft

To traverse it.

There are no clues upon the island -

Except a footprint here, a footprint there;

The old, tattered diary in which he chronicles his life;

And the infantile, incoherent scribbling

He once made upon his cave’s walls.

Nothing to hint or indicate

Wherefrom he came, or how.

He reasons,

“I think, therefore I am;

I am, therefore was begotten.”

But try as he might, as hard as he thinks

Till his head grows heavy and his eyes swim -

He finds his reason cannot stretch far enough

To deduce the existence of his grandfather.