On Seeking God

He thought it would be fun
to play hide and seek. These were
simpler times, when his only playmate
was God. "God," he said, "you hide,
and I’ll try to find you." He covered his eyes
with his hands and counted for a long time
(and in those days, a long time
was a real long time), but when he opened his eyes,
God was still everywhere,
in plain view, which spoiled the fun.

He said, "No no no, you’ve got to HIDE,
get it?" (God has always been a rather
difficult child. We used to know that.
It didn’t bother us. We thought that was
how it was supposed to be.)

So this time, he counted...and counted
like forever – more like forever
than what passes for forever these days.
But when he opened his eyes, there was
God, the big goof, as obvious as an ostrich’s ass,
except more so, since God didn’t even
turn away from man, much less hide his head.

So he said to God, "OK, I see this is
difficult for you, sort of like ceasing
to be Yourself, so let’s turn it around: I’ll hide,
and You come find me. Don’t forget
to count...", and he looked for a good hiding place,
but where can you hide when everywhere is God,
nowhere to hide but within God? How could he not
be found instantly? But he had a bright idea:
He would simply not be there. He’d be elsewhere
or nowhere at all. He simply wouldn’t be,
just go dead, unconscious, oblivious, unfindable,
so that’s what he did, and God couldn’t find him,
and, he noticed, he couldn’t find God either – if there was
a God, and if there was himself, for that matter – he couldn’t
find himself either and couldn’t recall what the hypothetical-he
had been looking for.

That worked fine, except the game was no longer
a game, since it had no ending (so far).
And from then on something, perhaps a trace of himself,
sought himself, occasionally, in the process, catching a glimpse
of divinity, or sought divinity, occasionally catching
a fleeting glimpse of himself.