god at the car dealership

peaceful here in the service waiting room, as light from a middle aged star washes through ancient melted silica and prisms into a coat of many colours

my neglect of its gifts for the first half of the wait is breathtaking:
I wear its warmth without regard, peripheral its colors without notice, absorb its vitamin d without gratitude

astonishing really, that a four billion year journey of gravity collapse and energy transfer and photon road tripping across 93 million miles of a vacuum is lost on me
but there you have it

the eye with which I see god may be the eye that god sees me with
but the I with which I see god is a whole nother story

the contractions that forge my self from Self are at once as distant as that star's furnace and as close as its heat, the mystery as all-encompassing

~

peaceful here in the service waiting room, as my eyes flit from the keyboard to another Waiter-of-the-Kia sitting across from me

she is device-less, gazing into space with a sparkle that hints at scherzos and waltzes and pre-Halloween dervishes behind the eyes

our eyes connect and in that moment

the walls of the dealership collapse like a four petalled lotus
mechanics and warranty-extenders and salesmen are stripped of everything they are not
and left like god's flares exulting
"Just This, Just this, Just This" across the universe that has been revealed
as not starting or stopping but simply conduiting through the dealership's heart

~

normal here in the service waiting room
as the thousand dollar bill is presented

it's as much god as the lotus and the vision and yet the cycle of contraction starts again

~

Grace here in the service waiting room as the lingering warmth of the coat goes subcataneous;
God's reminder of the I's eye
Always pending, to conduit anything into everything
In spite of myself

~

sub ek