Celia would say with that sly old knowing wink:

`If this Almighty really existed wouldn`t you think

That he`d want us unbelieving folk to know himself

And so would simply , unmistakeably show himself,

Rise up in all his splendour, wiggle his magic wand,

Bid all the world`s wickedness shrivel, flee, abscond?

I mean, why so shy? so bashful? keep himself so hid,

Why not just materialise, kick out, banish, and get rid?`

 

Until one night –in Celia`s dream–the Almighty did?

 

Transported her to a far, transtellar height,

Spread all the world below her in the night,

And then–before her dazed, astounded sight

Bid every sinful, stinking thing take flight!.

Till his sullen world lay chastened in the dark

Cleansed, indifferent, tedious, drab and stark.

 

Then splendidly rose amid that shadowy land

A winged white stallion, reins tight in the hand

Of a tall, proud, valiant silver-armoured knight

Who leapt astride the stallion and took flight,

Curving a wide-ranging, silver-scintillant arc

Above the vast, twinkling, starry- studded dark.

 

Who was that?` asked Celia, shocked - amazed

The Almighty mourned, compassion in his gaze

And (as Worth and Merit crumbled in his voice)

 

Answered Celia sadly.……`His name was Choice`.