Corner God
I believe in a god who lives in corners.
It’s not sacrilege.
It perches at wall and ceiling intersections, staring at us when we’re falling, staring at us when we’re floating.
Repeated chases in our minds, our haunted eyes, cycles of licorice regret coating our numb throats. Our greetings stuck to frozen voices left unsaid when the opportunity arose. Our fatalistic conversation with conjecture, turning probability over in our minds, estimating our own chances.
We decrease or maintain.
This is not a god who watches victories. This is a god who watches the struggle and the moments of calm in between the shopping cart crashes. It’s unconcerned with happiness. It’s indifferent to shouts of enthusiastic joy.
This is a god that likes the glue that holds life together. It values the mortar in between the bricks. It smells your dance with the unknown and gorges on the steps you take.
It’s not a parasite and it does not control your motions. It has no vested interest in the outcome of what you’re going through (because we are all going through something).
It anchors where the angles meet and watches us, disappearing when we look for it. Hiding from us when we stare straight at it. It’s the opposite of the sun. It’s the antipassive voice. It’s not omniscient but it’s everywhere.
It’s rooted where the shadows gather, the spout to the other places.
This god lives with us.
It does not record to scan later. It has no concept of future or past. It’s not some interstellar dimensional CCTV.
It lives in the now and it craves our fight.
It’s watching you right now and it will not intervene. But know that your choices or even your inaction will keep it alive. Your success will not. It’s not about outcomes.
It lives off of living.
tags
It’s not sacrilege.
It perches at wall and ceiling intersections, staring at us when we’re falling, staring at us when we’re floating.
Repeated chases in our minds, our haunted eyes, cycles of licorice regret coating our numb throats. Our greetings stuck to frozen voices left unsaid when the opportunity arose. Our fatalistic conversation with conjecture, turning probability over in our minds, estimating our own chances.
We decrease or maintain.
This is not a god who watches victories. This is a god who watches the struggle and the moments of calm in between the shopping cart crashes. It’s unconcerned with happiness. It’s indifferent to shouts of enthusiastic joy.
This is a god that likes the glue that holds life together. It values the mortar in between the bricks. It smells your dance with the unknown and gorges on the steps you take.
It’s not a parasite and it does not control your motions. It has no vested interest in the outcome of what you’re going through (because we are all going through something).
It anchors where the angles meet and watches us, disappearing when we look for it. Hiding from us when we stare straight at it. It’s the opposite of the sun. It’s the antipassive voice. It’s not omniscient but it’s everywhere.
It’s rooted where the shadows gather, the spout to the other places.
This god lives with us.
It does not record to scan later. It has no concept of future or past. It’s not some interstellar dimensional CCTV.
It lives in the now and it craves our fight.
It’s watching you right now and it will not intervene. But know that your choices or even your inaction will keep it alive. Your success will not. It’s not about outcomes.
It lives off of living.
tags