An Atheist Meets the GOD

Sleeping sick on my bed

in dreams somebody visited,
like a saint was he wise
with beautiful immortal eyes

questioning about being pure
testing my wit to endure,
his eyes meant deeper sense
uttering all his experience

the one with all the choices
having all the worldly rejoices,
toiling with my selfish will
lingering on my maxim still

voiced me O man of grace
the one who sees this face,
ails are what you wont recall
don't forget this meet at all

eyes opened with marinated talks
was that a dream of sheer mocks,
as an atheist i could stand ground
but was he GOD, is what all around