God and Man

Every morning, when I wake up, s/he is there.
Nudging gently at the edges of my dreams,
Softly invading thoughts through thoughts,
Slipping towards the seat of my heart,
Like an early mist, enveloping me.

Every morning when I wake he is there,
Strong lithe body, like a rampart,
A work of modern art,
Closed and turreted,
questioning me.