The Sea of Faith Was Once, Too, at the Full

God went into the water because he was tired.

So tired.

He went down to the purest river he could find and just slid into it, first as the corporeal body he had taken so that he could walk barefoot in the grass, and then he dissolved it and let his spirit fill the spaces between the water’s molecules.

God listened to the hydrogen and the oxygen atoms talk to each other, and he loved them, because they did not even know that he was there. So he floated with them around the world a million times, from north to south to east to west, and he was happy.

And then God went into a glacier. There, in the ice, he watched as the gravel ebbed and flowed through it, as bacteria stared him straight in the face and then squirmed through his crystallized form. The debris and the bacteria made patterns, patterns that he did not need to control, and he loved it.

The swamps, the puddles, the heavy clouds that hang in the sky—God visited them all. And each tiny stream, the moisture that coats windows and slithers down laden glasses, and the ponds in deep caves where blind fish swim in evolutionary circles, all of these; God lived in them, and laughed in them, and he heard a million tiny conversations of joy and fear and anger and hope.

God went home, and remembered how his people were made mostly of water, and he loved us again. He knew that we deserved him, and he deserved us as well.

Then he gave rain to the whole world, and the sun.

It was a beautiful rainbow.















Bonus: the song I was thinking of http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_FjmnzsW0M.

(Yes, I tried to link it, but apparently that was too difficult.)