God does not write words,
rather he waxes poetic
and that sensuous poetry
spills from the void
like the softest Summer breeze
creating...creating...creating...
God does not sing songs,
rather she is the lute and the lyre
and the sweet vibration
dancing amidst the strings so happily.
She is the wood and tempered steel
that resounds triumphantly.
She is the sacred symphony,
and I love her.
God does not dance,
but rather is the beat
that began with my heart
in the womb of heaven
and brought down its rhythm
so I might look inside
and move with the ecstatic bliss

of a dervish.
God fills my lungs with love...
and I am connected...
to all...
with all...
I Am...