Poem: The Depression By Orville Lloyd Douglas

He looked down from heaven and  remembered that he talked to Jesus Christ this morning.

He stared at the archipelagos they  look  like splintered  fragments of time.

The boulders, the sand, the water,  are separated by silence.

Swept on the shore is this anguish, this  doubt,  this void.

If the Lord is the almighty and is the divine one then why is he this way?

This affliction has caused him some turbulence, some fear.

He pleaded with God for an answer but he said nothing.

What was the reason behind this breath, this essence?

Should he return to the sea and plunge deep into the murky ocean?

Will an epiphany emerge from the Lord?

Is anything real or is everything just philosophy?