Of gods, godmen, and the gods among men

All the great gods are dead.
 
Their cathedrals,
their bejeweled crowns,
their elaborate scriptures,
turned to dust.
 
Their angels,
their henchmen,
their institutions,
their flags,
their guns,
their pride
rule the age.
 
I search for them
in the crowds,
in the confused faces,
in the little gestures,
in the humble acts,
in the noble lives.
 
I feel
divine presence
in minimal schemes,
in simple plots,
far away
from the world of excesses.
 
My altar
is at the god
of everyday wonders.