Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Buttery Epiphanies

The Jesus on my toast, he spoke to me. My flesh is gone. My face remains. Look not upon the corpse of dead heavens. Within you is life everlasting. In the Earth. The green grass that grows from its pores. In the press of time upon your back as you grow old with grace.

Eat not of my flesh. When you are hungriest give your only food to someone hungrier yet. Drink not of my blood. Welcome the desert. As a means to discover your own strength.

Be not saved.

Save yourself instead.

Heaven is lost. Find yours in another place.

I will be waiting.

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