Mahavakyas. Big thoughts. Deities, transfiguration, a life stalled, love’s rebirth.


I imagine a robust and hearty God

Like the ghost of Christmas Present,

Who plays with dogs on all fours,

Tells loud jokes no one could understand,

Pausing frequently to laugh before the punchline;

Who huddles food from great hands to a delighted mouth

Afterward snoring wantonly across the stars, dreaming with ardor

Of things beyond the cosmos, beyond

Anything yet imagined, absurd and incredible.

I dream of a God who fiercely loves creation.

Clasping the face of it in godly hands, that heavenly voice

Cries thunder and gusts in double octave half-tones

How beloved everything is, declaring with lightning

And howling, a sonic boom per syllable, borne on cosmic winds.

And then crouches God, barely breathing, suspended

For eons, between the cropping of mitochondrial crags,

to gaze in wonder at pools of universes suddenly

remembered and lovely –

Until a comet buzzes by a heavenly ear,

To be chased with a whoop and a blaze of childlike