Scared Shataki Mushrooms

A discussion that went on and on,
about a topic that I have strayed from.
Stayed away from.

Religion. God. god. gods. the Eternal. the One. the Word. the Lord. He she it.
Symbolically or metaphorically; a relic or a spirit.

Scared shitless I am. If I died right now, God, god, gods, the Eternal, the One, the Word, the Lord, he she it, would look at me and ask,

"You want to get into Heaven? Utopia? The everlasting Zion? The Afterworld that everyone likes?"

And I would stare at God, god, gods, the Eternal, the One, the Word, the Lord, he she it, and be too ashamed to say yes, I want to be in Heaven, Utopia, the everlasting Zion, the Afterworld that everyone likes.

Everyone that believes in a Christian religion believes that I shall go to Hell, the Eternal Abyss, purgatory, Hades, the inferno.

My Friends all think that I am not worthy of a life in Heaven, Utopia, the everlasting Zion, the afterworld that everyone likes.

My views are skewed, a straight line that became a magnificent painting including the red wheel barrow glazed with rain water, and a woman bent, looking into the sky as it slowly opens up and there is God, god, gods, the Eternal, the One, the Word, the Lord, he she it, about to pass judgement upon her and the rest of the ever-populated world about who will enter Heaven, Utopia, the everylasting Zion, the afterworld that everyone likes, and who will enter Hell, the Eternal Abyss, purgatory, Hades, the inferno.

She is scared shitless. The look on her face is a mix of terror, fear, desparity, passion, empathy, ectasy, concern, sorrow, joy, astoundment, and love, because she doesn't know where God, god, gods, the Eternal, the One, the Word, the Lord, he she it, will place her.

Predestined? Then who gives a shit. I'll live my life how I will. If I were predestined to accept (or be denied) God, god, gods, the Eternal, the One, the Word, the Lord, he she it, then I could become the next Hitler. The next Stalin. The next Mother Theresa. The next Pope. The next ordinary Joe employed at his corperate job or the next Peaches and Cream working the street corner for her pimp.

I stumble, I fall, I crumble when God, god, gods, the Eternal, the One, the Word, the Lord he she it, is discussed. I become weak, a jello mold that breaks and the jello mixture just flows out of the crack, never able to become the jiggly deliciousness that is Jello.

I am the woman bent, looking into the sky as it slowly opens up and there is God, god, gods, the Eternal, the One, the Word, the Lord, he she it, about to pass judgement upon

me. myself. and I myself.

"Be at peace with God (god, gods, the Eternal, the One, the Word, the Lord, he she it),
whatever you perceive him to be"
--Desiderata