Begin with questions:
Do jellyfish dream?
Do rocks think?
Is God truly jealous?
Have I a guardian angel?
Yes, jellyfish dream of kraken,
of power, of scuttling ships,
of mastery and the mystery
of shuttling from shining surface
to alluring but disruptive depths.
Stones might be slow angels.
Their thoughts, in ponderous
geological time, encompass starlight,
persimmons, wind, erosion, creation,
and the molten heat at earth’s core.
All I know is the finger that points
to the moon, not the celestial object itself.
If that finger wavers, the moon is not less
the moon. God knows our sterling intent,
our stumbling failures, and has mercy on all.
As a child, I was an angry atheist
who found comfort in subtle shifting light,
not a countenance and sheltering wings.
Now cupped in my palm a polished bit
of rainbow obsidian. It suffices.