Turn the last page,

Then take a look

At how your life's

become a book.


"Are you there, God?

It's me, Mary."

Of course He's not there,

So why are you asking?


You think all pain

Is just a punishment?

Watch where you want

To vest all your confidence.


You think your whole life

Lies in His hands?

Then maybe He didn't want

To give you a chance.


You think He's made

All of creation?

Thus come the powers

Of imagination.


Sweet December.

You curse such a month.

When there's only belief

For the beloved son.


How can you believe

That he cuts up his bread?

Lives on a cross,

Just to rise from the dead?


If Heaven's acceptance

Is determined at death,

Then you'll only repent

Until your last breath.