What if God were a planet—
In a white-hot, violet galaxy?
Perhaps if God were a planet
We'd relocate. We'd get new homes,
New pets, and shiny new clothes.
What if galaxies were God—
All of them? Might we evaporate
Into Divinity when we die?
Our ashy bodies compost, we know.
Even if, somewhere, we keep copies.
We'll leave molecules in tomatoes,
Wells, wool, sweat, and waffle cones.
On Earth, finally, we'd be everything.
Though what is the what, we won't know.
Somewhere, we do penance. Spit? Smoke?
Cast away? Lost in the belly of the Globe?
Demons who once breathed—
Who sold certificates for Heaven—
Who drank from jeweled grails—
Move to the Inner Circle.
[first draft of part 1]
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