Fire the Architect

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.

Gone.

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.