Oh, Give Me my Naivete Any Day

Oh how naive we are!
We people of faith,
we God-believers,
Let us glory in our mental density!
Oh, how the erudite people of this world
do reign so smartly over us. Oh how they excel in their
proficiencies. Let them revel
in their victory!
Praise be to the savants who
have got it all figured out.
From geologic ages hidden in the mists of time,
they have creeped and crawled and
uprighted themselves from the muck and
the mire. They have propelled themselves in their
homo erectus mobilities and they have evolved
ever so incrementally
in their homo sapiens profundities
not to mention their post-modern
efficiencies
while we fairy-tale tellers grovel in our
religiosity and our neanderthal
naivite.
We stand stupefied
in amazement at the sight of sunrise/sunset
while we mumble prayerful phrases from
of old
from the mists of our antiquity
and the annals of our simplicity, such as:

Oh Lord, my God, You are very great;
you are clothed with splendor and majesty,
covering Yourself with light as with a cloak,
stretching out heaven like a tent curtain.

He lays the beams of his upper chambers in the waters;
He makes the clouds His chariot;
He walks up the wings of the wind;
He makes the the winds His, flaming fire
His ministers.
He established the earth upon its foundations.

Oh what simpletons we be!
So chauvinistic and simplistic to believe
such anthropomorphic allegority.
Oh what mumbly-peggish muck we maintain when we insist to proclaim
all this ancient metaphoric modality,
while nowadays
every educated erudite knows
that PreCambrian begat Cambrian, and all that Paleozoic jazz,
which worked itself into Triassic and Jurassic razzmatazz
and so forth and so on through Mesazoic, then Cenozoic
on into Paleolithic and Prehistoric Man
who persists in doing whatever he can
in the wake of Pleistocene ice
which is nice and will suffice
to explain a lot of glacial turbidity
and anthropologic historicity
instead of anthropomorphic naiveté.
So we see eventually we evolve along
without a prayer, not even a song
in the midst of Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon arcanity,
destined for humanic profundity
through Mitochondrial Eve,
not Adam and Steve
with no assistance from above
while meanwhile push cometh to shove
except an occasional shower or two
a shower for me, a bath for you.
And hey,
if I'm a simpleton in this my childish view,
what's it to you?
Huh?
At least I don't say um between every word,
stalling,
so as not be interrupted by my esteemed colleagues.
Please forgive my simple revery,
amidst my disprespecful levity
as I was a-saying,
'though maybe its more like praying:

You covered it with the deep
as with a garment;
The waters were standing above the mountains.
At your rebuke they fled, at the sound of Your thunder
they hurried away.
The mountains rose; the valleys sank down to
the place which You established for them.

When every school boy nowadays knows
that such Genesic biblical prose
is just some old Mosaic tale
of Noah, and Jonah in a whale?
Really?
Be that as it may, I insist as I persist:

You set a boundary that they may not pass o'er,
so that they (the floods) will not return to cover Earth.

When every school boy nowadays knows
that if we don't stop these carbon-spewing shows
then the polar ice will melt,
polar bear will lose his pelt
and all the coasts will flood
with climate change like spewing blood
and life as we know it will come to an end
only to begin again
just like the good book predicts
in spite of all our international edicts.
Selah.
And Rah ra, sis boom ba.
On the other hand,
ice is nice and will suffice.

Glass half-Full