Confessions of God

It wasn't enough being a god. I wanted more.

And so, because I was a god, my desire was instantly granted. I imploded into human birth.

This is why we gods come to the earth, where all possibilities appear as separate particles, adamant as salt or sugar. We get to taste everything, not in one vast sugary sea, but in grains of pain and beauty, sorrow and joy.

We crush them on our lips, and taste them in combined opposites, granulating eternity into moments of time. God's can't do that. They cling to Oneness. But here on earth, we get to welcome Oneness as a chaos of exquisite particulars.

We enjoy seven pandemoniums of singularity: eyes, nostrils, ears, tongue, skin, mind, and "me." But who am I to say what's happening? I'm too stunned, too drunk and amazed. I am the cause, I am the effect.

I created this sacred mess. I blame no one. Just another fallen god following the only commandment: keep surrendering until otherness dissolves. So I fall in love with dying flowers, and scent silence.

Wild scarlet poppies tell me to shut up, but I keep talking back. I weep over deer droppings. The doe and her fawn come silently to devour my garden. It is all so gentle and cruel.

Here on earth, the only religion that works is walking barefoot in wet grass at midnight, un-naming the stars.

Beyond the rim of atom cups and galaxies, I over flow. I globe the cosmos in a teardrop. I am crucified where six directions kiss, pathways for angels to descend on the cross of my flesh, each photon the center.

Abandoning the asymptotes of eternity to curve my bewilderment around a moth wing, I alight on a petal of lupine. In a mountain meadow, hear the invisible gush of snow-melt under the moss. The sky, the flower, my wing, one trembling trinity.

The mountain of stone turns to mist, while awareness solidifies. Matter dissolves in formlessness, the formless condenses into jewel. True wealth is whatever disappears, pure consciousness more adamant than sapphire.

I have come to annihilate you with my gaze, as you have come to annihilate me. This planet is our hunting ground, where we devour one another. We have each abandoned the name and form of god to be awakened by a gnat.

Embracing midnight, we become fire. We are sparks that destroy the world when past and future strike like hungry rocks. If in your search for desolation you stumble on my bones, still warm, rub my ashes on your face, friend. Then go naked.