Geometric Allegory

Part 1 Maybe you’ve heard of The Infinite Monkey Theorem. It goes something like this:          I f you take an infinite number of monkeys           and give them an infinite number of typewriters, One of the monkeys will eventually,           quite haphazardly,           rewrite William Shakespeare’s masterpiece, Hamlet.   Word for word, If they’re given enough time,      I t will happen - With enough Monkeys, Typewriters, And time. l,im,n ixk, And what of our bodies? And what of our spaces? Eventually, The same can be said of everything: Every single atom we've gathered From across the universe and beyond, From all that we see And all that we don’t see. Everything will implode And collapse in that glowing, fiery crucible Where finite moments restructure themselves And form into a newly minted seed. Given enough time,  We all melt into a seed And all that ever was Hardens into this l

I heard the name God  In passing today. It surfaced  singular,  Up from the background  In a steady blur of conversation. "God." When I heard God,  I immediately thought of a magician.   That's what I automatically do: I envision A magician standing on a stage.    Is that strange? No matter the context —    Be it at a wedding,   A funeral,  In church Or on TV... Or even, as I've said,  As a single word overheard in a conversation— When I hear the name God I see God the Great There on the stage.  His suit fits him nicely, And atop H is head, A black velvet stovetop hat Blends into his thick, slicked-back hair. (As is custom, he pulls me from his hat, But not yet... Or not today) He wears a  flowing cape, too; It matches his black shoes, And his mustache, waxed,  Points like a tuning fork. I'm drawn to his dark, dimpled cheeks, And I swoon in the scent of his cologne. It smells of  Honey-t