God loves us, more than any human we can ever know.
God does not give the tiniest shit about us.
But make no mistake.
God is the Ancient of Days, gray-haired and venerable. God is not the Ancient of Days.
God is the Law, the Logos, the dharma. God is not the Law, the Logos, the dharma.
“In my Father’s house are many mansions.” So shall we tour all these mansions, guided by our brother and friend Yeshua. Without his guidance we would be eaten by the worms outside. We cannot imagine what shall come at the end of the tour. Mansion after mansion, further up and further in.
Then the stars resolved themselves in petals, titanic petals, and I realized that the world was contained within a flower. But what kind of flower I could not tell.
“A tulip,” the angel told me. “For the tulip is a chalice and the world is properly contained within that chalice.”
And I saw then that the angel’s head was itself a tulip, of red petals tipped with orange. Whereupon the angel seized me and carried me aloft, higher than I could think.
Looking down, I could see great fields of tulips, graduating in color, blue to violet to black to red to orange and back again, stretching into infinity, the fields gridded and bounded by canals.
“These are the fields of God, and all of this is by and for God’s glory,” said the angel, holding me aloft over the uncountable worlds. As we flew ever higher, the angel’s grip began to slacken, as we grew closer to the Gardener of that place, down to the very tips of angelic fingers, until ultimately I began to fall, towards the infinity of tulips, feeling my own limbs become a stalk and my head petals. Whereupon I continued to fall.
CHARIOTS OF THE GODS?
The Bermuda Triangle
Illuminati: Cosmic Trigger
Man, Myth and Magic
Bryan placed his plate on top of the stack of books. Danielle had insisted they eat at the dining room table, but she wasn’t around any more.
He forgot his coke. He walked back out to the kitchen. The house echoed with his footsteps. The place was really too big for one person. Four floors including the basement. Bryan knew he should move, but since Danielle had moved out, he didn’t feel much like doing anything except reading, working and watching TV. Fuck her; he could afford it. The rent was dirt cheap. The neighborhood was all crumbling pre-World War I brick, and nobody wanted to live here.
He got his coke and went back out to the living room. Only the aquarium light of the television lit the room. He adjusted the rabbit ears on the Zenith and planted himself on the lawn chair next to the front window. Danielle had taken the real furniture with her, but he hadn’t let her claim the TV.
Out the open window he could hear children playing in the June twilight and police cars going to meet a call. He turned up the volume on the set.
Trapped. Trapped in a maze of hallways, without beginning or ending, alone.