Tease After Alfred Joyce Kilmer Trees Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

I think I think I'm really me,
I'm free I think to think I'm free.

I'm me, who looks for God each day,
and then goes out to fight life's fray.

I'm me, life’s simple little fish
who swims till Inter Net casts phish

till passed up, by life's bank foreclosed,
to ‘Standard Poor’ metamorphosed.

I'm me, who may forever bear
more kids till old age dyes my hair,

whose bosom beats till Time rhymes drain
with dreams of castles lost in Spain.

Poems divine are made by me,
but what is God, and where is She?

Do I Think to Feel or, Feel to Think?
I think I think I'm really me,
I'm me, who looks through God each day
when venturing to fight life's fray.
I'm free I think to think I'm free.
Life’s little fish in fee pond see
me swim till In_turn Net casts phish
upon identity to dish
life's causal quest: eternity.
Trace race reels on haphazardly
till passed up, by time's bank foreclosed,
to ‘Standard Poor’ metamorphosed
as mind grinds heartfelt hopes at sea.

Though verse divine is made by me,
what's cause/effect, and where is She?