My God, Myself

My mind questioning the confines of religion.

My God, myself,
Where in do you dwell?
I see you no where on the surface,
No structure that man has created
Has kept you, you are elusive.

You watch from above, and laugh,
With much love, at our fickle attempts
To obtain you.
Why does something so pure,
Need some form of lure, like a church or
A priest or a fable?

My God, myself,
Where in do you dwell?
I have a secret to tell.
He is not in a book, or a cup,
Or a certain special kind of son.

He is here with me, always and forever,
I don't even think He is a he,
"He" is too human, too shameful a name,
And god is just so overdone.