Writing...second to God

Since I cannot make writing my God I'll make it second to God.
Though it offers no salvation, no promise,
I run to it as if it will save my heavy flesh from shredding fire.

But only in my mind can I do such a thing.
Reality comes with too many laws and regulations,
The laws of physics,
The law of the history,
The laws of emotion.

But in my mind the twin towers were fishing ores,
The flood of hurricane Katrina was a puddle
And Hitler died as a baby.

In my mind God materialized himself in the image,
Not as the faulty human with faulty wisdom,
But he materialized himself as the wind, the moon the pen and the book.

He showed His unconditional love by blowing the weeds out of the grass
By showing His face in the midnight hour to the tribe walking the ghat by the river.
For me he showed His love by swaying along the lines I write.
Moving up and down, making my words feel like something.

I am trapped in my mind,
Living in a world of logic and statistic.
Where a rigid speech is more powerful than the simple words of a haiku
And the typical child chose bounding toys rather than the liberation of notebooks and pens.

Look at the limit that is placed upon our young,
They can only go as far as the instructions allow.
But with writing they make the limit.

Writing is not about the motion of penmanship
But it's about the mind generating the idea,
The ink and paper are there to make sure it stays permanent.