Oh, the great whale tears

Sharpening the illusion
of storm drains in heaven
like tailored snowdrifts
and reified rocky caps

tell me of something true
beyond the constructs of gravity
and water and matter
if only we could wed the cosmos

I have nowhere to go
but to return to whale tears
where even the angels forget me
though I know God will still talk

believing nothing while still hearing God
is a maelstrom inside a teardrop
like satellites around Vegas cautionaries
contributing to sailing shoes and parking
there was never a foggy midst
not under the whale’s belly
and God’s unforgetful tone