God, whether she is a sentience outside of the universe, or the totality of a mechanistic reality, will take measure of the intention of your heart in the moment of your death.
When the outlines of your temporal, egotistical self break down, and the viewpoint you inhabited melts into the eternity of all things sentient and insentient. When you surrender the ghost to the stark reality of rocks, nitrogen, and the unregocnized prophets of ancient civilizations, the measure of your heart will take place.
God, whether he is a patriarch too tired to keep his children from fighting, or whether he is a disparate web of information, described as physics playing across an infinite plane, will take measure of the morality of your heart in the moment of your death. When the Wrong Thing would have been easy, and when the Right Thing would’ve been difficult. God can see that. God, real or not, sees it.
God, whether it is the foolhardy emmanation of a greater truth, that all of us mortals must toil under until we gain appropriate knowledge through meditation and suffering, or it is a grandpa-like figure sitting on a literal chair in the clouds, dictates the lives of the blessed and the wretched in equal measure.
God, why you gotta be breaking my balls.
God exists, real or not, because of how our minds work. I think of it like a big old crystal ball. Like the leylines of all of the things that happen in the universe are contained within this sphere that is enwebbed with infinite nueral patterns of potential and actuality. That an apt metaphor is a brain with neurons and dendrites and synapses and shit. And that The Brain of Reality is held together, is experienced, by God, as a sort of ledger of what experience is. A written work of What Is.
God, and of course this is a metaphor. It’s hard to escape the realm of metaphor and analogy when you’re talking about meaning. Jamming a Breakfast Burrito into your mouth hole is wrought with many layers of latency, symbolism, world-breaking irony.
God probably means knowledge, means awareness. Means wisdom.
God, take pity on us creatures. Damned with both a soul and a body. I get to experience the beauty, majesty, the whole of the thing. I feel the sharp edges, too. I am cut and nicked by man-made blades.
God, ever wiser, gives me dreams. Potentiality. God rests while humans toil because it is all written. I can scream and writhe about the injustice of it all, but I believe that one day we will choose love over selfishness. It was intense love that bound the early caveman humans together and it is love that will sew up the chapter on humanity. I was just born way before that.
God, purple and blue smoke rising out of a campfire. God, in the alchemy that turns the written word into ideas. God, as the world in the mirror. God, as a nice sunset on a hillside.
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