The silence of which You spoke
It began on a whim, You say -
Creation merely God's game.
I try to reconcile this
with what You also said -
no one suffers in vain.
True freedom, again You say,
is the raison d'etre including,
presumably, freedom from suffering;
freedom from the whims of God.
There is nothing to add from this
one small mouth on the planet, looking up
into a night sky going on forever.
Perhaps, this is the silence
of which You spoke,
coming to the end of hope,
where love begins, but how, o Lord?
I'm not feeling it kick in.
Where do I turn from here?
The earth is round; I am unable
to step over its edge and plummet
into Your timeless, infinite point of view.
O child of God, blow out your candle
to experience the true essence of the night.