I met God across his long walnut desk
with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him,
and God asks me, "Why?"
Why did I cause so much pain?
Didn't I realize that each of us is a sacred,
snowflake of special unique specialness?
Can't I see that we're all manifestations of love?
I look at God behind his desk,
taking notes on a pad,
but God's got this all wrong.
We are not special.
We are not crap or trash either.
We just are.
We just are,
and what happens just happens.
And God says,
"No, that's not right."
Yeah. Well.
Whatever.
You can't teach God anything.
