“How would you like your coffee, sir, with sugar or with cream?”
“I’d like mine served with ketchup, please; it’s always been my dream.”
“But, sir! It’s never served that way. Folks like it weak or strong.
Some like it served with whiskey, but with ketchup? That’s just wrong.”
“But didn’t you just ask me how I’d like to have it served?
To tell me I can’t have it so, to me just seems absurd.”
“I’ll gladly serve you coffee, sir, but in the proper way.
You must drink it like the fine folks do, who come here day by day.”
“How do you worship God, sir, in a church or synagogue?
Do you eat fish on Friday? Do you never touch a hog?
Does your denomination meet on Sunday every week?
Do you ever miss a prayer meeting? What commandments do you keep?”
“I have no temple worship place. I see God everywhere.
I feel His warmth in summer’s sun, His Spirit in the air?
I find Him not in buildings men have built with their own hands.
I visit Him on mountaintops and in the vast woodlands.”
“But, sir, you can’t ignore the rules and worship as you please.
There are meetings that you must attend, and pray on bended knees.
How will you ever make heaven, sir, if you don’t come with me
To a recognized establishment where God’s supposed to be?
And what, sir, is your politics, if I may so enquire?
Are you a young conservative? Or are you more liberal?”
“Really, my friend, I’m neither option you have picked for me.
I’m just a private person, seeing things the way I see.
I don’t need politicians to spin what I believe.
I don’t need a religion to tell me how to live.
And above all, my gentle friend, I don’t need, I must say,
Your rules for drinking coffee . . .
I’ll just have it my own way.