the last pagan god

I prayed to the sky
and it was there
 
I prayed to the wind
and it was there
 
I neither bade it come or go
but still it came and went
 
a tree in Autumn shed its leaves
like dandelion seeds
blown by a boisterous imp
 
the churches rose and fell
as insects often do...
 
the One True deities did too
 
so all that stayed aloft
in my epiphany
 
was that degraded panoply
united by a common soul
 
of sky and wind and tree