#1867

Maybe what I forget is how mortal I am, how tiny and brief and human. Whether any of the rest of my suppositions are true or not, I am at least in this moment, in this life, a fragile, fallible being. What lays beyond the confines of the physical world is beyond anyone’s full comprehension; no mortal mind can grasp the awesomeness of divinity, though some may come closer than others. Maybe that is why you hold back, why you speak to me in fragments, in brief flickers of sight and sound and only the vaguest of hints. Maybe anything more and you risk burning me up like a sapling in a firestorm or melting me like sand struck by lightning. You gift me with small glimpses of your truths, but never enough to form a complete picture. Perhaps the gaps in between, those missing pieces, are what protect me from going insane or crumbling to ash in the heat of your radiance. If so, I suppose I should be grateful. Still, I think I would like to look upon your unveiled form just once, even if it was the last thing I ever saw.

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