Am I in love? I know I am. The swirling, heavy, pink smoke seeps into the cracks, fills the skull like frankincense in church. Dizzying. Impossible to ignore. I suppose that’s why it is used to announce that God is in the room.
God is in the room.
Can a person breathe only smoke? I believe I do, feel I do. If I close my eyes, inhale, and open them, I see the whole world through a veil of pink. The love is always swirling.
God is in the room.
Does He want to be seen? Does He want to be felt? If I were so good, I would not care to be worshipped but maybe that is the problem. The difference between Us and God. He knows the secret; that the living is in the worship. He envelops Us and We are glorious. He cannot stop, not if he tried. It is only Us that must choose. I suppose that is belief.
I want to be glorious.
God is in the room.
How can We be joined and not lose our self? Are the parts not more than the whole? I suppose that is doubt. The Devil in the details so I might as well not read them. The love can’t fit in a space that small. That’s why churches need towers and the heavens were built above the sky. We could hardly fathom the space the love takes up. The smoke seeps into the cracks. The whole world is veiled in pink. The parts become like bricks or air.
God is in the room.
Are you in love? You know you are. The sunlight soaks the towering, shaking tree tops. A nurse warms a crying child’s first inhale. A man stops to take a picture of the moon he will look at on days he feels alone. You are suspended, floating in the beauty of it all.
God is in the room.