I've slept in church
that must be when
I missed the answers.
"When will Christ return? "
I asked, waving my phone,
"I have this handy calendar app."
'My child, ' he said, putting a
fatherly hand on my shoulder.
I wiped it off, like a spider web.
I'll never get to heaven,
I lack the plasticine
malleability of belief.
.
**plasticine malleability = Play-Doh like*
What if Christ is the same LOGOS that was there at the beginning, namely the 'Word' mentioned in Genesis. In that case we can begin to seek him in information that structures the cosmos.
We have been saved from nothingness at the very beginning by a telos that aims through us at a future stability that is beyond us. Could that perhaps be a step toward salvation?
Maybe there's beauty in the paradox in how far away all that is from our incarnated predicaments, even though its great power under-girds our existence in the most in the most direct, immediate way.
Between the trellises of transcendental numbers, maybe the LOGOS uses mathematical functions to build bridges of energy, until the vacuum foam prepares a singularity.
Maybe that resonance is uplifting if allowed to inform one's life.
And maybe there's a resonance between the information that structures us and the information that started the cosmos moving at a more fundamental level.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The person who asks big questions has big faith, because he/she is committed to searching for as long as it takes. Pre-digested answers won't do, but different digestive systems can assimilate parts of the answer.