There is a truth that God has etched upon my soul; it is love.
It is the seed of freedom that grows when I return to the divine wellspring with my empty vessel.
But I am so rarely empty.
I build God in my image or borrow blueprints from others.
Then, somewhere in the middle of the night, I realize it is all theory. Every last word.
And I am alone.
The walls that provided me with a sense of security have been abolished.
Just. Like. That.
In my aloneness I am empty.
Yet somehow this site of deconstruction, this demolition, is God's favourite place to dwell.
I have no ideas, no pictures, no manual.
But I now have space.
Space to be filled with What Is.
And I am.