Within Our Hands, the Kingdom Here

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I crossed the seas to look for God,

Walked barren lands, searched sky and sod.

I questioned waves and wind and stone,

Yet everywhere, I stood alone.


No footprints marked the waiting ground,

No radiant face was ever found.

The forests sighed, the birds all flew,

The heavens kept their distant blue.


Weary of calling, worn by quest,

I turned at last into my chest.

Within the heart, silent and broad,

I found the dwelling place of God.


Not throne nor crown, not rite nor creed,

But love alone fulfills the need.

The sacred flame is not divine-

No heaven built by rigid design.


It burns in kindness, lived and real,

In every wound we choose to heal.

In mercy’s touch, in shared despair,

The face of God is everywhere.


No temple built of stone or gold

Can hold the grace that hearts unfold.

The world itself becomes the shrine

When human hands and hope align.


Yet hear this now, you seekers loud,

Who march in faith, convinced and proud-

Why must your dreams of kingdoms high

Still let the living suffer, die?


Stop this foolish race to mold

The earth into your heaven old.

Do not change the world by force or fear

To crown your god as ruler here.


Build not a kingdom in the sky

While children starve and mothers cry.

Make this land-here, where we stand-

A living realm of heart and hand.


Let love progress, let mercy lead,

Let brotherhood replace all greed.

No communal drums, no tribal flame,

No jealous cries in God’s own name.


Do not envy another shore

Because their nations rise and soar.

If others grow, then learn and build-

Not curse the light you never willed.


Improve the soil beneath your feet,

Make justice real, make people meet.

The future blooms where minds are free,

Where reason walks with empathy.


Let not our banners blind our sight,

Nor borrowed gods ignite our fight.

For borders fade when hearts unite,

And truth grows strong in shared insight.


Remember this, both near and far:

God is not kept in book or jar.

God lives wherever hands choose care,

Where humans rise above despair.


The world’s true temple is our home,

In every voice, in every poem.

A sacred space where love prevails,

And human kindness never fails.


Within our hands, the sacred flame-

No holy war, no heaven’s claim.

One simple task, both brave and sane:

To heal, to grow, to stay humane.


For God walks not where crowds obey,

But where we choose the human way.

The kingdom sought is not above-

It rises here, through human love.


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