White Smoke

Let Good be God. Until His next return,
serve Goodness like that were your missing Lord.
Perfect and pure, Good's born to be adored.
Surprisingly, with Good, there's much to learn.
What's good in you's a wee bit rusty and
craves a dozer's blade to fix a few
small lapses of the brain's best work. Your canned
opinions must be left upon the pew.

It's not enough to say "Choose Good". One must
be Good with all the brilliance of his heart.
The chains which bind his soul must be untrussed,
and spotting booby traps, must be an art.
Incarnate God, does not appear as form.
Whatever else His business is, each soul
on earth can track with Good until the storm
blows by. On Ethic's scale, the northmost pole

is Goodness, higher still than true or right.
We seek the truth to reap its Good. The clear,
and certain read, that Goodness brings one's sight
provides a man the foremost way to steer.
Goodness is real, and co-exists with crap
that dominates weak minds. An endless slap
to shake the stupid off, might open eyes
to take the reins of God, at long last wise.