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