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.