I Met God in an Alleyway, and He Asked for a Cigarette

I met god in an alleyway, and he asked for a cigarette,

He hushed me down when I passed it– as though we’ve a secret.

The alley was dark, and the footpath wet,

When I asked him if we had ever met.

He smiled faintly, not lifting up his hat,

He said you're not the first one to ask me that.

Amusement danced on his fingertips, as he lit the cig,

And then he bent down to grab a broken twig.

He bore his eyes onto it when he rubbed it against the wall,

Specks of fire emerged as he stood tall.

I met god in an alleyway, and he asked for a cigarette,

We’re both sitting on the pavement as he gazes into an amulet.

The amulet is a brilliant blue with specks of green,

The making of it- is no less than a dream.

He questioned if this looked familiar to me,

"I wondered if this is what Earth could be,"

God sighed, a sound old as the sea.

"Not quite," he murmured, spinning the amulet slow,

"This is what it was, before they let it go."

I met god in an alleyway, and he asked for a cigarette,

The cigarette burned low, like an ancient flame,

Its smoke curling like memories, never the same.

"I don’t get many believers these days,"

He said, his voice lost in a foggy haze.

"Just people who search for someone to blame,"

His words dropped heavy, without any shame.

I met god in an alleyway, and he asked for a cigarette,

I watched him, his face a portrait of sorrow,

Like a god with no faith in tomorrow.

"And what are you looking for?" I asked,

His silence spoke more than words ever tasked.

"Something worth saving," he muttered, resigned,

Like hope had long since slipped from his mind.

I met god in an alleyway, and he asked for a cigarette,

We sat there, still, not a word to break,

Both of us lost, with no choice but to wait.

His eyes, they carried a galaxy’s pain,

Fading and hollow, too deep to explain.

I met god in an alleyway, and he asked for a cigarette,

Finally, he flicked the cigarette’s end,

Its ashes scattering like prayers to send.

He stood with a groan, his bones heavy with age,

The weight of eternity set in his gaze.

"I’ll be back tomorrow," he said with a sigh,

But his voice carried no hope, just goodbye.

I met god in an alleyway, and he asked for a cigarette,

And then he vanished, a shadow in the night,

Leaving me alone with the fading light.

And I stayed, with questions too vast to ask,

Wondering if even gods ever grow tired of their task.