scale

a thornbush burning makes no spectacle
to hold a trembling nation rapt in awe
but starting intimate was suitable
to turn Moshe to study what he saw
explosive wonders mesmerize a crowd
and get the multitude into the street
but revelation need not be so loud
to reach a  humble shepherd on bare feet
against the cosmos we're the merest blip
asserting we're creation's lofty goal
a species on a diva's ego-trip
insisting ours must be the starring role
a still small voice that's only in your head
is all the hint you'll get that God's not dead