Saturday, June 08, 2013

Searching for the ineffable


















Does god have an office
somewhere in the galaxy -
a celestial ontology
in the center
of a supernova
or a black hole
to an other dimension -
or is it closer;
on a mesa
somewhere in the desert,
or in a saint's heart
toiling for the earth's wretched;
in a wren's trilling song
or the rustle of leaves -
the light in a child's eyes,
the lust for new flesh?

Manifests in the mundane -
stones rollicking from steep hillsides,
a car horn bleating plaintively
in the distance,
the refrigerator's monotone whine.
The mechanics of the universe -
the space between my fingers,
the expanse between the exhalation
and intake of my breath,
in the gap between thoughts
resting in synaptic crises;
between heartbeats.

Divinity in a flourescent light,
a plastic coaster on a faux wood table;
the contrived,
the artifice of our minds.

Abstractions
of gargantuan concepts,
not easily wielded by
the less sophisticated -
god the thingless,
random and connected,
spiraling through
a single mutant cell.
The emptiness between
things -
a canvas of nothing
from which all
energy emerges -
chaos organizing itself
and dissolving back into chaos.

Let the mind rest
on what seems empty
and unfulfilled,
and there
find absolute real,
pure potential -
and that is god.


© 2000 Melissa Songer

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