Dormant

Another year closes, another year opens.
Once again in Shropshire, birthplace of Darwin,
Wondering if he really did turn to god in the end.
With all the wisdom, questions, research, love, knowledge, experience, anger,
The man who showed us the door to a new hidden staircase,
Who would never know his own power,
Even he turned to the simple voice.

The great struggle for a constant.
Love it or hate it, evolving and confusing,
Twisting, hiding, appearing, shouting and whispering.
Whatever your understanding, whatever your label,
Your god has always been there,
Lodged in your brain like a benign tumour,
Never quite alive and never quite dead.

So I take a deep breath, 
Get ready to plunge into this unknown new year.
With a faint hope that maybe in 2011
My god will show itself again.