My Heresy

I like my God much better than the one who made his home up in the stratosphere and favored us with visits now and then, harrumphing down below about the way that we behave, and tantalizing us with sticks and carrots grown especially for those who said the secret word or not, by having properly proclaimed one man a king: all this, of course. was indirect. The voice of supernature wasn't heard; the being had a handicap as beings will, and yet the silence was as heaven-sent. For I, the fallen one, would live because the son would die. That was the sense of it. But making sense is for the sensible, and arms and legs and progeny fall short of that pure consciousness which stubbornly insists on such intangibles as wind and breath and spirit time to mark its age, its truth, and its enlightenment. It is in such an ocean that I swim; It is in such transcendant holiness that I perceive a new compulsion, bent to scale the mountaintops, to part the mist, and finally to show the face of God. ~