Always in the beginning,
we are told,
there was something.
But god
is not some token
or utterance
to be spoken;
rather, it's a faintly
indescribable feeling.
It's never hitting skip
on the stars
as they're wheeling
to get past
the treacle and on
to the good part;
it's perpetually
forgiving
all now living
for their coarse
and unflattering
imitation
while constantly
fighting the screaming
temptation
to fall madly in love
with ideas,
not people;
it may sit on the tongue
more palatably
than sweetness,
yet somehow
more absinthian,
more bitterly than bliss;
it's saying out loud
to no one:
well wonders never cease!
And: so what
if there isn't a word
for this?