Human
sentience is like atmosphere –
relentlessly
unquestioned, it permits us
our
experience of “here.” Nothing comes
to
us except through its commanding sphere.
It
is the dearest gift we know of genesis:
its
nemesis, and ours, would be its absence.
The
nearly daily consummation of our greatest
fear
comes when we see it suddenly appear
to
snuff out into nothingness. So we revere
all
breath. I wonder if this means that God
is
not a sweet benign omniscience: I wonder
if we secretly believe that God is death..
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