They say that God has nine billion names, and when people were more willing to believe in what they could not see they did not dare to tread on or throw away any scrap of paper for fear that one of those names was written on it. Perhaps the more perceptive ones hoped it never was, because to see the name of God was never to see anything the same way ever again.
Some days you thank your lucky stars you've never been good at names.
There can only be heaven if there is hell, people say, and hell would hold no power if there were no heaven to dream of. You don't say that heaven and hell aren't two sides of the same coin, they're the same thing, only from different perspectives. People might actually believe you, and then what would happen?
Omniscience and justice and freedom are the dreams of those too young to know what taking your feet off the slowly turning earth really meant, and of those too stubborn to care.
You’re neither, haven’t been for a long time, you’ve learned to compromise and to be fractured and to let things go, people are masters of the art of living and you should be happy you’re learning from the best, but happiness is a solid. Some days you want not to have aged, to still be innocent and heartless and to not know better, but you know better. If things were fair everyone would be dead, and when people were dead they didn’t learn. And they were dead.
In time, perhaps, you’ll learn to be comfortable with the knowledge that ideas were for people and not the other way around. You don’t really want to be, but you have all the time in the world.
In wherever it is that the soul resides there is a house shaped like a lotus, and in that house there in enough space for the universe, if you wanted to hold it.
You do, so it is; you never expected it to be easy, and it isn’t. You don’t know how to live any other way, don’t know how to live by half-measures, even though years and years of world is as good as a class in taking off edges. To carry the universe is to accept that no man is an island after all, that, despite the futility of the action, you have to care.
You have time, more than enough time to grow out of old habits, but.
You don’t remember everything, but no matter how spotty your memory is you remember more than anyone else. You remember when time was not chained down in zones, dependent on sun and earth and inertia, when there was a zero point and then there was being, and time was pure numbers ticking on until eternity. You remember when supernovas and sparrows were one and the same, except where it didn’t matter. You remember when you learned that heaven wasn’t impenetrable, after all. You remember what were probably the longest six days in the world, and when things that breathed and walked and did things without burning with celestial radiance at every step started breathing and walking and doing things. You remember the affection that took root in the back of your mind, then. You hadn't yet known you were doomed.
Purity of anything was the first step in the descent to madness. Or ascent. Either way, it was madness.
You know that you have to kill your Christ, every time. Otherwise resurrection wouldn’t mean anything, and neither would redemption. Knowledge doesn’t make things easier.
There’s only ever been one fall that merited capital letters. The first and the best, and the only one that had an actual reason behind it. Everyone else had excuses, but you had reasons. You still wouldn’t change a thing, but that’s pride for you.