She asked me to index the reasons why

Clear evidence for God seems in short supply

But she should believe in Him anyhow

And though patient, she wanted these reasons now

She told me of her friend who was her teacher

Looking at me askew like I might be a preacher

And I had to smile because she sought truth

Much as I had earlier in my golden days of youth

I asked where she thought and what she thought she’d see

As you undraped the curtain back from the mystery

As she walked and quietly picked up a blossoming flower

Holding it up as proof of God’s beauty and sacred power

Plucking her guitar strings, she sang of things like love

And asked me if that wasn’t proof enough of God above