i don't understand God. then again, i never tried to.

i wasn’t raised in Their presence. the concepts of All Good and All Powerful were rebuked as contradictory, and i still don’t know how to join them.

but i don’t think that’s where i misunderstand.

i’ve since lived long enough to experience the innate contradictions in being human. my disbelief lies more in how consistent They must be. how can an Existence beloved so dearly, by such imperfect lovers, still requite with full patience and compassion?

i felt deeply splintered as an object of affection, rigid and full like a wood balloon. the love billowed my soul until the creaking shell threatened eruption.

i don't understand God, because i don't understand how to be loved.

the power that love gives is devastating.

They’re bestowed with a fascination that defines every action They take. God must be worried that even Their mistakes are characterized as divine. They hope to not make too many, but mistakes are inevitable. still,

They’re desperate to not let Their failures be misunderstood as the reciprocity of love. “that’s just part of God’s plan,” and so God must be very careful.

being loved broke me.

it lifted me up onto a tottering pedestal, and the unease i felt only made its sway more dramatic. i didn't survive the fall.

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They sit far higher, and while They’re surely more comfortable, Their lovers clamor below to shake Them down, desperate to feel a little closer.

i wonder the toll that worship takes, to feel a responsibility to maintain that love, to hear the anguish when They falter. "God is too good to fail," and They can only watch as Their lover withers from that delusion.

the self-flagellation in Their name surely can’t be desired. even when They reject prostration, it only seems to fuel love. “God is ever-merciful,”

but mercy was as unnecessary as the sentence.

i don’t envy God.

to be loved with such faultless devotion is constricting.

how do They deal with the pressure to always be perfect, the way Their lovers envision Them?

i didn’t deal with that pressure very well, but i am much less than God. i found it hard to express myself in the confines of pressure.

the illusion that was constructed around me seemed so delicate, and i’ve seen how violently the cracks form.

God’s illusion is stronger, but even still i wonder how They deal with a trapped spirit.

i wonder how God feels when a lover suffers a crisis of faith for something not entirely Their fault.

They weren’t paying attention, idling by the nebula, and lost sight of a child.

i’ve felt the guilt that absence brings. for all my faults, it was the petty that made me mortal.

every time i reached to grasp the Ideal held out for me, i had to let go of something insignificant. when the trail of baubles was too large to ignore, and the Ideal was still so distant, i could only weep.

all i abandoned was now trampled and worn.

the smile turned to a sneer, and the love that pulled me so recklessly was withdrawn.

how do They recover from the paralysis of failure?

i don’t think i understand God. but i understand the expectation set upon Them. my heart breaks for Theirs.