What, I Wonder, Do You Do All Day?

What, I wonder, do You do all day?

What keeps You busy, do please say.

Is what You do is reign from a throne,

From there observing all that You own,

This grand Universe and Space so vast,

Your infinite cosmos, from first to last,

Noting all that happens to occur in it,

Maintaining a record of each little bit?

Some might think this is all You do

(Sometimes also doing a miracle or two),

But somehow I feel this just can’t be so

(Although this I can’t on my own know).

What an awful waste of time it would be

Were You to do just this for all eternity!

Here’s a guess, though it could be wrong:

Maybe what it is that You do all day long

Is to do every deed that comes to be done

(Perhaps this being Your way of having fun).

All thoughts that are thought, all words uttered,

All cries and all laughter, all prayers muttered,

All actions that come to be made manifest

Through us humans and by all of the rest,

Sentient beings and inanimate things, too:

Maybe all of these are done just by You.

If this be true, perhaps this is the way

That You spend Your every new day,

Doing all deeds done, being thus engaged

In a drama that You’ve for long staged.

If all this be so, how strange it must be

As sole doer of deeds You being so busy!