Religions are like those upside-down trees
at the art museum, their roots in the sky.
An unsettling alignment. Yet priestly decrees
must take their nourishment from on high.
Religions are like those upside-down trees.
Each tree subsists in its leafy certitude,
true to its own history. But its starry roots
breathe with the others. And that second sanctitude,
approved in common, lies above disputes.
Religions are like those upside-down trees.