Are you there god?
It’s me…Wait this has been done before, crap.
Let’s start again with something more original,
Hi god or god like thing I don’t know what else to call you besides god, yeah, me here
I guess there are only so many ways to skin a cat or talk to god.
For the rest of the month I will take up prayer.
I am an X-Jesus freak, church attending, god lover and the only time I pray is when I pass car accidents or am getting test results back, and it sort of slips out of me, like cussing when I drop a glass on the floor.
God? I can’t say if it is my greater self, my current self, the universe, the divine, my subjective reality or one of us (oh, bad joke). Frankly, I don’t really care at this point in the game (22 days of being a yogi, 28 years old and in Armenia). This apathy for a universal truth is fairly a-typical to my disposition but the definition isn’t as important as the inquiry, spoken like a true Unitarian. I do long to continuously alter and understand how I define my relationship with this thing/concept and how that fits into my life (if at all) after this month.
I remember listening to some guy talk about his religious beliefs (no source info because I don’t remember who it was or where I heard this) and he was explaining his own ‘faith.’ He knows for certain that he can’t be certain about the divine or anything in the supernatural realm, but regardless, he makes a choice to believe in a god. This willful belief is constructed for the sole reason, it makes his life better to hold this belief, and to conduct his life as if there is such an entity, than where he to not “believe.” It isn’t as simple for me but I feel more comfortable thinking about our connection to the world and to each other, the force of love or the power of trust and the magnitude of the universe as my constructed god. Heck, I like to think of religion or spirituality like a buffet table I can pick and choose how I am feeling at that moment and maybe one day I want a salad (god) and the next a jello with fruit inside (god).
Girls swirled in dresses of pink and I would braid your hair
I danced with you in the moonlight and the stars would hum a tune
My feet atop of yours, I would float on clouds and lullabies.
Pen to ink
Black on white
Red, hot, fire and screams
You threw me into the flames and I felt the world swallow me whole
The smoke choked, blinded and I lost sight of the sound
The white of fog settled and you were farther than I could see
I thought maybe you were only of a dream
Words held me in their gentle hands and I slept with the likes of men and women who had no form only text.
You couldn’t take me to the depths of the chaos, to the end of the end
I would find you as I stumbled, lost in a dark alley,
Eyeliner, mascara and cigarettes
“My shoes are broken,” I would say
I was drunk and crying
You told me, “You don’t need them anyway”
“What do you know old man,” I would hiss my spit venom.
You would sell me candies that were hard and sour
I would work them in my mouth for hours, tonguing them passionately
They would leak syrupy honey through a small crack
The thick sweetness would coat my mouth and would begin to pour like rain from the sky and tears of a new born
Then there was nothing
You would visit me again, in music notes, sitting a rest upon a star, at the end of a river of tears you would be waiting under a tree, you liked to creep in silently like a cat and rest at my feet
I saw you again the other day,
You have changed; you looked older, kinder, and gentler than I remembered
You seem, now, to show up in the strangest of places; in the faces of people I have never met, in flowers lining the streets, in the bottom of a cup of tea, at the end of words holding on to the tails of sentences and taking a nap in the creases of books. You are much more unrestrained now than I recall, you extend like the sweet scent of lavender in the summer and I delight in simply enjoying the lingering and savoring the fleeting.
Eyes change as the years pass and mine once searched for you and now they can’t help but find you.