I am a restless man, a wannabe holy man
my mind churns over the meanings of God’s word
it deconstructs the messages into pieces that can be weighed and measured
held up to the light and examined closely, like a doctor with an x-ray.
I find them to be great and daunting and confusing and alarming.
I prefer my own interpretation, I prefer to revel in my sin.
I can stand and philosophize – articulate a worldview and a doctrine.
But if I were to write out my own beliefs, there would be just one page containing:
“I don’t know, but God.”
We can only capture in words what exists in the lurking domain of the spirit.
From the spirit comes the words. The holy books could not exist if not for words.
God grants them to us. Unasked for, they penetrate the soul.
We are the creation – not the creators. We are the mirrors – not the light.
We are hosts for greater concepts, vessels to speak aloud the holy names.
To dance around and praise the Lord should be our greatest joy
To share with our lovers and our friends
To share with those who will be lovers and will be friends
the glory of God, the Most Glorious!
If my words and being can translate that meaning for others to hear
than perhaps I am holier than I thought I was.