At a coffee shop, following a funeral,
for a friendly neighbor, an elderly woman
who died from long time afflictions
The type of event that inspires one
to ponder life’s big questions,
the believer and agnostic sit and chat
over comforting, hot beverages.
The believer, an elderly man, with scraggly
grey beard and white hair,
War veteran, widow, self educated,
reader of spiritual wisdom,
sips hot chocolate,
while the agnostic, a young man,
a deep thinker, scholarly student,
with cropped, brown hair, casually attired in blue jeans
navy oxford, long sleeved, Polo shirt, black leather jacket,
enrolled in philosophy of existentialism,
lover of Sartre, dreaming of graduating,
becoming a writer for one of the media corporations
with lots of clout, savors a gourmet latte.
They engage in a philosophical discussion—
a metaphysical question—
Does God exist?
The believer vehemently argues
For the existence of the divine:
“He speaks to me, answering my prayers,
guides me on the journey of life,
Through the wildness of difficult decisions,
past the weeds of hardship,
beyond the jagged rocks of misfortune,
points me in the proper direction
when there’s a fork in the road,
To sustenance, where there’s usually
peace of mind.”
The agnostic listens with eager attention,
thinks to himself:
God has never spoken to me.
Logic and reason strongly suggest
To me that God does n’t exist.
Just a construct of the mind.
When the believer completes his sermon,
The agnostic diplomatically comments:
“Whether the divine exists
is one of the great mysteries
of human existence. We shall never
absolutely know, until we depart this world.”