We’ve assumed the characteristics of God
as if we wrote him as a stock character
in our YA novel lives.
I give you money. I get food.
I go to work. I get paid.
I pursue meaning. I find fulfillment.
I pursue love. I find Him.
When we treat reality like a math equation,
we divide existence into understanding until
the numbers don’t add up,
and a savior never arrives.
But here’s this:
for those more visually inclined,
God and I—
two infinite lines
stretching beyond this universe.
He never came back for me
because he never left.
He never crossed my path
because we were always moving in tandem.
He’s always getting closer,
but he’ll never arrive.
I’ll always feel Him,
but I’ll never experience Him.
This is our mathematical romanticism,
tactically torn between what I want to see
and what I do,
yoked to incalculable beauty,
asymptotes and irreverent hopes.