as I had been prepared for this day all my life.
I found out He wasn't an old white man
with a long white beard and clean white robes.
It was light, only a silhouette,
with hips and curves too much like mine.
It talked to me in my childhood literature teacher's voice
— the one that had a witch's nose and a witch's soul.
It stood before me in all Its glory
So I could have the eternal life,
to the white nothing that surrounded us.
And told me, in Its screeching voice:
What do You mean, this is it?
It smiled, or I think It did.
"You are dead. You had your time to taste the world.
When you die, you enjoy the memories you made in life."
But I didn't taste the world! How could I?
What really matters is what comes next!
The paradise You promised me!
(or, that they said You did).
The day I met God, It sat down with me.
Took my hands in Its bigger ones
"I planned every detail, my child.
I composed the birds' songs
It took Me seven days to start it
And a hundred billion years for Me to better it.
My beautiful creation is not perfect, and will never be.
But answer me, loved one,
What would be the fun if it was?
Would you be able to enjoy the sunlight
Would you feel so thrilled by joining someone in bed
if it didn't feel at least the tiniest bit forbidden?"
God moved Its head closer to my ear, and whispered.
(Somehow, Its voice still made my bones tremble).
"The mundane is my gift to you, child of mine.
A flesh vessel for you to decorate as you please;
A thousand delicious dishes for you to taste and fill your stomach;
More songs than you can ever think of to dance for;
So much art for you to admire with those beautiful senses I gifted you!
The world has existed for a billion years
and will exist for a billion more.
You only have, at most, a century, little one.
So eat, and sing, and dance, and lust, and love!
Your time is limited. Make memories you will want to remember for eternity."
The day I met God I opened my eyes
and found myself laying down on cold sand,
the grains clinging stubbornly to my skin
as the ocean water reached my dress.
And I heard Its laugh following me home.
