Who am I to know of what is it that God thinks about me.
Much the same question as cotton clouds in the sky.
Who am I to question what God feels about me.
Who am I if God grants me the strength of an angel; only stands in the shadow of a fire.
What is God's language in thought or in prayer better yet unknown as the divine dialect.
Timeless a language in that everything is known.
I ask: what if language were all in a face. Just a face. Not of facial expression from which we inform miming... but a language that is processed in the mind without combining words and assessing their meaning.
What is unequivocal to understand is how God's nameless identity came into being.
Does God have a mother. Was God a baby. Did God grow old only to create the heavens and the earth. Why are these things simple not invented rather than biblical or political in view.
Should every prayer be hidden in a deeply rooted 'amen' or sung alleluia alleluia alleluia inwardly as if a miracle.
Perhaps if we contributed to life living it in slow motion would eliminate our starvation for evolutionary principles.
Much ado conflict to a new world order or the corruption of a very real nebulae from which contradictions and controversy arouse the mind and activate the senses.
So on and so forth... what if this view of mine is sordid. What then.
But what makes beautiful the divine. That is a question worth asking. Though what if the secret is that we've been falsely lead to believe there is no secret to the holy grail. What then.
What surpasses the unknown. What is the unknown other than your ideation through which we observe to look and see things if not abstract.
If the language we were accustomed to were an image what would that image be. Forgetting that we possess language as a medium. What does that face conceal rather than language reveals.
From what fairytale do we achieve how to use a mask or wear a cowboy hat in our very intimate portrait of God.
That that faith is a confession put into a picture.
What risk runs the spirit but a threatening moral acclimation of the will. Good vs good... Quite a paradox. Both of those options negating evil unconditionally.
What if you awake from the fever of a dream where you escaped your funeral... in this dream you conquered your fear of death because you dreamed you had died but in the dream you thought you were never going to wake up again. Maybe just maybe you commenced at being the person you never thought possible.
Just imagine that kind of succulence. A beehive of emotion in your central nervous system... like honey in your mind... slowly dripping.
I do believe in angels. The kind of thing transcending an energy and an unmistakable vibrational element. We have chased around the idea of angels through a historical documentary. The order of angels on earth. I cannot fathom this third dimension we live and breath without the existence of angels. It would only be dead air. Compassion is what separates angels from mortals.
