He holds the key of many things
Far than the human mind
He is not in flesh and blood
But of some different kind

The eyes do not perceive him
To touch is not alive
He is the moon or wind for some
Is difficult to contrive

Deeper than the deepest oceans
And further than the sky
He lives in a different world
No one knows why

Some wise men of the world acclaim
They are his incarnate
Drape their selves in flowing robes
Then call to congregate

To stone, brass and sun they bow
Queer rituals they inculcate
The mass of ignorant chant away
And mindlessly follow their bait

The Almighty still eludes them
His form, they are not sure
End up on their death beds
Proclaiming, mine is more pure.