On a still, slow day
when questions stick in the throat
a lawn mover rumbling outside the window
when the breeze blowing across the hairs
on my arms
is the only thing keeping me awake
it's on days like these
that I can feel the thoughts of
God
pulling me taut to the earth
rushing through my sandals
to my knees
up to my shoulder, then my scalp
I feel the Divine Thinker
imagining me.
Imagining
me
what an honor!
to be a dream of a salvific God
a wisp of a sleeping world
that began to trick itself
real
A timeless jewel in a world that
invented time to forget its Creator
If He forgets us
will we exist still?
or will we cease
for all our struggling
remembering our sorrowful station
as nightmares of the Divine