For such an all-consuming,
God is too short a word.
The word for God should have
at least twenty-five syllables,
so as to remind all who utter it that their God is that of other galaxies,
of every stone.
That is why I know I love you.
I do love God, but God alone is too big for all this
just to be about that.
I know that when I think of you it could not only be
a metaphor for the grand unity,
the one syllable,
My love distinguishes itself among other instances,
thrill of sensing it is you.
God of Diastole, God of Systole
together we search the lonely kingdom for traces of goddess.
Virgin Parthenia, it is I
Assassin for the gentle and true
hashshasheen to the lazy Tantrix
razor blades sheathed at the tips of my petals
In the long grand line of epic tales real people
are created by this writer we call God
and those who believe
make a name for themselves.
God has already helped me plenty. But I still need you!