a prose poem
I often ask God, Why aren’t you listening to me? And of course the answer comes back as silence.
How else would anyone or anything listen? Silence is in a sense the ultimate listening.
Maybe God is the ultimate listener, which is why we humans perceive it as silence.
And what would God, the creator, at best a phenomenon of universal scale, say if it could to a transient part of what it instigated and was still a force involved with?
Some would say, quite rationally in human terms, then Why try to communicate with it at all? Why do you ask? That’s the question. Why do you want to engage at all? That’s the reason.
Something in us wants to connect to that other. Admit it. The ultimate listener always there, ever present, all knowing, in our heads, perhaps created in our own image, or is it the other way around?
Now I shall tell you in strict confidence (and please don’t be jealous or skeptical, just hear me out), God talks back to me. I ask why is this happening and why am I here in this way, and I get a response.
Right now when I am asking how to convey this information best, God is telling me it is time to floss and go to bed.
Feel free to ask questions. Either through me or directly. God listens and if you can hear yourself, the other responds always. Always.
There is that of God in all of us, that is what we ask and that is what responds. I wish I could say it better. It is not mystical, and yet it is. It is not religious, and still it is. It is not entirely scientific, and yet it is.
Oh, by the way, God says Hi.
How are you? Please tell me about it. God is listening. If you want I can also listen in my limited capacity.
I Dwell In Possibility 