We’ve heard rumors that God doesn’t know he exists. She exists. It. Whatever the gender or genderless you get the picture. God doesn’t know there is such thing as God that he is this thing we call God this blessed hunk of bright rock candy savored by longing mouths. No one told him. She doesn’t know. Someone we don’t know who someone once suggested that it is our duty our sacred task to remind they Hey God you are there you are God this explicit thing we call God that gives us this day and all days our daily lore the core of our be all end all edness. God in his glaring lucid blankness might receive us freely and say There is no God or God who exactly when she feels herself confronted by a roving needy tribunal. This not done out of spite malice ill will or anything of the sort but simply because rapture need not call itself r-a-p-t-u-r-e its voice voices rapture as force not letters spelled nor does long deep sepulchral sorrow go around infatuated with its past and riffing upon its wake as mortuary and phrase. We as selves conscious of ourselves become conscious of God as name God as thing God as yin god as yang God as yo-yo God as bright rock candy from a distant gift shop. Another lost one of us has suggested that even if God were told who she is she woudn’t hear you because God is All Ears not a single set tuned to the specifics of name claiming to be they echoing endlessly. All Ears is mirrorless in its listening. If God wakes up to the glittering hard candy fact that there is a God and she is it then worlds would truly move away from themselves in ways unimaginable. At least this is what was suggested by one of us long since defected now trespassing freely whenever wherever.
Image by Josef Sudek