An Ungodly Irreverence. Or Madness.

Wings - cliff - Angel...falling - plummeting to my...

Death?

...can angels die.

Fallen...Maybe.

A disembodied voice speaks...a lost tongue

Unrecognizable

"God...Is that you. Am I dead"?

I shoot bolt upright in the bed, drenched in sweat.

Panic and dread set in....If I am dead, I was not ready.

"No one is ever ready for the end child".

"Who said that, show yourself".

But it's a voice between the periphery

of dream and waking.

Shaking off the nightmare cobwebs...I look around,

caught between the real and the dreaming.

I am alone...Alive?

Heaven playing those tricks again

Leaving me with a pit of emptiness in my gut

Illusions...Falling off a cliff is not funny, ye God of Dreams

I am constantly plagued with the god-awful feeling

That I have been abandoned by God

For, if I have been invented in the image of a God

Who it seems

Has left the world in a freefall of hopelessness, close to despair

If we are indeed replicas of a god-image

Do gods suffer from the infirmities of us mortal beings

arthritis...infirmities of life, limbs and organs...and worse

a body filled with betrayal

and the insufferable malaise of old age

a complete collocation of the shedding of youthfulness...

in exchange for debilitating misery

Desperately and in vain...we struggle against the horrible despondency and chronic reaching for more

OLD AGE

I fear to name the innumerable other anguish and angst associated with this odd state of being not young anymore

Hoping not to be a burden on anyone

Yeah...yeah. I know...we should grow old gracefully

Do Gods grow old...watching us squirm and suffer

If they are indeed our image, should they not be long dead

And if God is dead...what in heavens name are we to do

For hell beckons.

Does God have a built-in reconstruction mechanism

Maybe some AI bots...to restart and remodel his anatomy

Furthermore...Where is that particular miscellaneous body part located in our frail and fragile innards?

Hello...

Is God still there...Are you listening...

For mankind has been wheeling freewill like Merlin's wand

Or King Arthur's sword

While the rich consult with Macbeth's three witches in their modern ten dimensional cave

Sorceresses who dole out riddles of dressing up like trees and storming the castles of politicians everywhere

Death to greedy kings...anarchy, evil and haters of regular people

I am running mad among the trees...searching for answers

The trees are closing in on me...to be my undoing, like they did Macbeth

Have faith you say...believe in that which you still cannot see...

Well! ...I have been trying to believe in shadows and ghosts of stories long ago told.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for...the evidence of things not seen.

So...believing in FAITH...

I climb to the top of the cliff...smiling with faith as my trusted wings...

And JUMP!

Trusting in faith

Hoping for clarity....

To be saved by Faith.

Falling to where the road drops!!!!

Faith better be there at the bottom to catch me.