001. D_M Prompts -- Crop Circles
In God's house the angels speak with their eyes, never their mouths. They found me in the yard and right away their fleshy, useless, flapping tongues were gently chiding me and asking me why I made such a mess. None of that was real speech, just routine: press one (1) for polite curiosity, press two (2) sympathy, press three (3) to speak to an operator. Disconnected.
Even with all their mindless jabbering, I can still hear their eyes whispering dirty little secrets and filling the hallways with granny smith green fears and nervous tittering.
The angels took me to God's office where everything is clean, polished and smells like orange oil. He looked at me, knew what I had done and that I was not ashamed. When his mouth opened, his words, smooth and cool as marbles, fell out and rolled across his desk.
"Why did you do that? You always put so much effort into the garden and now all the plants are trampled."
"I just wanted to get an apple from the tree."
I used to think that God saw everything but when I look at him and his lying mouth, his open eyes, I know that he doesn't see an apple tree in the yard.
Even with all their mindless jabbering, I can still hear their eyes whispering dirty little secrets and filling the hallways with granny smith green fears and nervous tittering.
The angels took me to God's office where everything is clean, polished and smells like orange oil. He looked at me, knew what I had done and that I was not ashamed. When his mouth opened, his words, smooth and cool as marbles, fell out and rolled across his desk.
"Why did you do that? You always put so much effort into the garden and now all the plants are trampled."
"I just wanted to get an apple from the tree."
I used to think that God saw everything but when I look at him and his lying mouth, his open eyes, I know that he doesn't see an apple tree in the yard.