A Question

“I was reading the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything.” -Steven Wright She was wearing a light-colored dress. She was looking comfortable, elegant. I was organizing inside me a story About what I should tell her about my upcoming plan. A third try. Lots of failed efforts. Shifting of focus. Life gets ruined, and life crawls midst of that utter ruins to start all over again. She was fixing her ring on her left hand. She was looking at her hands. And then she asked me,” Tell me about religion.” “Um... what?” I lost a thread there. “Tell me what you think about religion.” She seemed serious. “I can tell you what the dictionary says about religion.” “Please.” “A particular system of faith and worship,” I said. “What does it mean, anyway?” She asked. “Believing that the supernatural power has control over everything.” I was trying to be simple. “Ok, now give me an example of a religious man.” She told. “A person who submits willingly and surrenders to the supernatural power.” I cleared my throat. “And who is that? Me, you, anyone, you know?” A serious question again. I closed my eyes in utter frustration. I could not tell her that I only see a shade of religiosity in all of us. In me, in her. Just like a shield of self-protection. A colored lens in a supposedly color-blind faith. I did not answer. I could not answer. Probably I would never be able to answer that accurately. (I think I will meet Tony Anderson, one day, soon!)