Throwing Stones at the Sun

There are times when all I want to do is throw stones at the sun
Times when my prayers are not answered, my dreams ignored
When my understanding attacks my faith
When scratching for knowledge digs up dust
and marching through the motions is all I can offer
When my hand so naturally forms a fist
and I don’t care about why
When the sound of the wind in the trees is no longer magical
and hanging on to family seems a laudable imagining
Then my fondest desire is to take stones and throw them at the sun
one by one until with an oath sworn with each
until the sun darkens
and finally goes out
And dare God to say
let there be light
Is the wind in the trees because God put it there
or is air just moving from high to low pressure?
I am praying for the former
Terrified of the latter.

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