God: A Definition
God
/gad/
1. Risking absurdity, & without belief, I wear a saint 'round my neck.
There is no God here, save for the bones of your face, & that liquid lamplight which has only ever whispered to me taunts of exquisite loneliness.
2. Without belief, I have fashioned God after a painter.
If we are to have gods, wouldn't the artist be a god? Wouldn't the mother, the father, the insect, be a god? Makers of life, and honey; frustrated machines, communicators of loneliness.
There are oceans of emptiness between us, we became creators the moment we set our minds to building ships. We became martyrs the moment we wrecked ourselves on our shores.
There is no god here, save for us.
3. Having knelt at the church of steepled fingers, a vain mind that dared to contemplate the universe,
I have seen too much, already have witnessed it all. In the time flowing backward like a river over sands & sands & sands; over the impressions of boot soles, we left to bake beneath some unholy sun.
4. There were never any gods here, save for you & I.
Never a hell I have not been to, never a heaven I have not slept in.
My angels are of my own creation, my demons are dragons which curl warm & heaving 'round my bones.
There are no prayers to utter, in the windy catacomb of the mouth, save for the one some great love might one day place there; drawn crude as a cave painting,
eternal as a myth.
/gad/
1. Risking absurdity, & without belief, I wear a saint 'round my neck.
There is no God here, save for the bones of your face, & that liquid lamplight which has only ever whispered to me taunts of exquisite loneliness.
2. Without belief, I have fashioned God after a painter.
If we are to have gods, wouldn't the artist be a god? Wouldn't the mother, the father, the insect, be a god? Makers of life, and honey; frustrated machines, communicators of loneliness.
There are oceans of emptiness between us, we became creators the moment we set our minds to building ships. We became martyrs the moment we wrecked ourselves on our shores.
There is no god here, save for us.
3. Having knelt at the church of steepled fingers, a vain mind that dared to contemplate the universe,
I have seen too much, already have witnessed it all. In the time flowing backward like a river over sands & sands & sands; over the impressions of boot soles, we left to bake beneath some unholy sun.
4. There were never any gods here, save for you & I.
Never a hell I have not been to, never a heaven I have not slept in.
My angels are of my own creation, my demons are dragons which curl warm & heaving 'round my bones.
There are no prayers to utter, in the windy catacomb of the mouth, save for the one some great love might one day place there; drawn crude as a cave painting,
eternal as a myth.