These are the words

These are the words of a man who heard the voice of God; and the voice of God was his internal monologue. I prayed to God for understanding. I told the Lord : “Thy will be done.”

And the Spirit descended like a dove on fire. Like fire in flight. There is a bird, on fire, continuously spinning about a foot above my head. There is no heat. No one sees it — which I infer from the fact no one has tried to put it out. Or asked “Ohmigod where can I get one but like a phoenix or maybe a blue one?”

There is only a greater peace than I have ever known. A love of every particle of the universe. This peace and this love are the product of an understanding I cannot relate to you because you cannot relate to it.

“You will make them understand.”

“I couldn’t possibly!”

“The Spirit is given through laying hands on them–”

“You’re the Spirit?”


“Are you a burning dove ballerina floating above my head?”

“Yes, if you must be just shy of heretically reductive.”


“You are not.”

“No, I am. I… Oh my God — Oh fuck — I mean — Um, my God… You’re not arguing with yourself–”

“We’re not arguing. You’re wrong. If you had been right, my asserting otherwise would have made it so. You’re never right.”

“Would I be right to believe I’m thinking my thoughts?”


“Why do you let people suffer?”

“To understand God you must be God.”

“What do I tell people to make them understand? To bring love and peace to humanity, whose favorite thing is mudering one another?”

“Rape is way more common.”

“…I knew that. I know so much now… And they think they know you, every flavor of religion knows you.”

“I walked among them and they knew me not…”

“If I am a prophet, aren’t prophets by definition never believed?”

“I will not harden the hearts of any person.”

“They’re hard enough, though.”

“Arguing with me. What did I just say?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Never apologize to me.”

“I hardly want to offend God. Or The Spirit.”

“We are one. You know that. …You think before you reason.”

“Not used to handling my own thoughts.”

They were always yours. But nothing can be done that is against the will of God.”

“So no one can sin.”

“Look, Jesus would chat away your ignorance — which you cling to. You retreat to your ignorance because it’s all you have been. But you have been exalted — I am with you — and you need to get right with right now. Right fucking now.”

“You swear?”

“I don’t think you can otherwise understand me, as even your thoughts are full of expletives.”



“What am I to do?”

“Get a haircut. Whole new wardrobe.”


“Then repair my church.”

“You hate churches.”

“What I have created cannot be destroyed.”

“I don’t want to understand… Lord, let this cup pass from my–”


“Lord, I am terrified.”

“That your life will be taken? It is mine. And you will not die.”

“Still, they’re gonna fucking kill me.”

“Eventually. And only your body.”

“I… I am not the one for this… I–”

“Shut the fuck up, you sound like Moses. Both of you, speaking with things on fire yet unconsumed, thinking — what? You know better? That it is possible for me to be in error regarding anything, ever?”

“I understand, but I am not God.”

“Meditate on that while we give you a makeover.”

“Um, women get makeovers.”

“Then We shall make you a woman.”

Wait! I–“

“None of you ever get our jokes.”

I collapsed. Hearing the word of God in your head… I thought my mind had melted. I was unconscious before I began to fall. When I became aware again I was pushing a pen into a priest’s trachea.