I got into an argument with a (self proclaimed) Christian who didn’t want his holy books questioned. Does he think You fit in a book?
I got into an argument with an (self proclaimed) Atheist who didn’t want his learned men questioned. Don’t they demand to be questioned?
I’m finally starting to see why, no matter which side we pick, we’ll call the other side closed minded.
We pick metaphors that can be sharpened into a weapon. Closed mind. Open mind. Pry the thing open by force if we gotta.
But the last thing You made them was closed minded. A lot of them don’t want to look, but the problem is so many don’t even know where to look.
We turn humans into Prophets to destroy You, and try to prevent them from dying. We turn books, words, ideas into God to worship You, and try to prevent them from changing.
We wander lost, angry, afraid, lashing, looking for Your light while shutting our eyes because it’s too bright.
You are too bright to behold with these imperfect eyes. You are too vast to be seen. Your smile is the center of the universe, Your eyes are the center of the universe. You’ve just grown with it. We’ve been blinded for staring at it since birth.
We all have.
Weaving lines of light into piles of fabric until we struggle to feel the air.
Space-time rolled into tubes, and laid out, twisting and snagging into stars.
I find myself weeping, gripped with the notion that the beginning of the universe was when You died.
And this. All of this is You trying to come back to life.
Then I remember. Life is a stage, I just don’t remember what the next act is. Just the casting sheet, nothing but humans for a little while longer. You directing every one, shaking insanity into the story.