I saw God. Only it wasn’t seeing. And it wasn’t God. Theophany—face to face. God doesn’t have a face though, but neither does God have a name—even if I call and an answer returns to me. I’m in the middle of reading the scripture of the golden eternity, only I am not reading, but writing…

In my own little heaven, I play for a second that I am God (except that I itch and my stomach makes the occasional noise) but that is beside the point, I am the scripture of the Golden Eternity. I have all the world at my command. I miss my other half.

Waiting, election time and Ramen, a pauper’s dinner—waiting for a feast that tomorrow I will eat with friends. Food is expensive. I am on the campus of a seminary, on a mission in Malawi, in the barrio in little Mexico, outside of the castle, inside the keep. My skin is not white—I am a native American> with ethnic indigenous people color, a Pinetree, a President, a prisoner.

I have little experiments lurking in the other room: infinity, paradox, DOG in a backward universe, MU, Bookshelf board games, a man defined in the book being held by a man being held by a dream. I lied, that paper wasn’t done. But it exists in my head—just need to stay awake/engaged. How big is the universe! That man on the TV is me, and the woman next to him as well? It is only an idea, empty and absorbing.

Remember me little brother, I am carrying your casket. My face, so like yours, reminds me of the love of God—mirrored in all. I pray for the Devil, that he will change his address—that horns in heaven can be forgiven, like halos in hell.

That face again, the sun shining brightly. I swirl and swim around its outer bank, dipping my fingers into the font. Yoga-cycling, like a stationary bike that sits still until it becomes the reality of its name. I itch again, the bike and I are one—one of us wants to go outside for a smoke. The true name of the nameless one is is.

A window into heaven also looks into hell, because this is all there is—the burning inferno and the blinding light…how does one’s body feel decomposing? Like rot or like roll. And I say unto you, you are healed by the name of the being, the becoming, and the is. World without end, Amen, amen.