Look Poem by Stephen Bennett The Playjurist

The God that is, when you feel God
is not so close actually
is the real one...
the floor of a changing place
the saying of nothing heard
everywhere
all the time and I and all
the wooden parts dead affixed
to the hollow buildings and those
still alive in their trees and buds and the bugs
and towering halls of emptiness
and expanding volumes of nothing
but light and all the other things I decide to write
and add on, the whole infinity of those I do not
with you there and me and all of this...
and all of us are in it, doing the same thing
together. And I'm telling you.
And you're listening, and I have
gotten myself up to a peak
of having heard and understood
the idea of every bit of what
everything is, and why it is so
and for what, and I know
it more and more and I can't stop until
I'm crying out to you free without fear
or shame and it's here... it's here
and you feel it too...
but still the question stays the same,
only it's so wonderful: wondering
what in this mystery world now
are you and I going to do?