Buzzing.

Preface: Yesterday I yelled at God because it was windy.

GOD. You are a holy, benevolent being of righteousness

I. Am a scoundrel with the potential to cease to exist with one fly-swatter hit

But still, even with the knowledge that you are the creator of all things seen and unseen, the Gospel, and the details in between, I spend most of my days screaming.

Which I’m sure while you’re on your throne in a heavenly realm surrounded by Angels who YOU made to tell you of your infinite glory... 

It probably just sounds like buzzing.

You built the house, and the kitchen I am in. 

You baked the food, that smell that brought me in.

I am the fly who’s defiling your house 

seeking the MADE more then the MAKER because tangible has more clout.

That bread your slicing becomes so enticing that my vision blurs and my focus turns 

to that lovely loaf with, what smells like, bananas baked into it? 

C’mon God, you know that’s my favorite.

With that smell in the air, I fly-   blind, and land on whats not mine.

I lose sight of who baked it. Who put it in the stove and made it.

The Holy Chef who’s hands created it.

I lose sight, until that bread crumbles when the Creators blade hits 

An earthquake the size of a loaf of bread feels cataclysmic

And it sends me into the air, buzzing with resistance

But you, oh Master and Provider, gently swat me away- causing me to fly higher.

And from this new height, closer to your eyes

I can look down and see that the bread wasn’t mine.

I was fooled by my senses, controlled by what my flesh said.

I smelt the desire of what could be mine and it caused me to fly lower to just get a slice.

I flew so close to your blade that I felt the ground shake- 

but I wasn’t supposed to be there eating that bread anyways.

It was your hand that came so close and stirred the wind around me

Causing me to fly closer to you, higher, where I could see

Now, l realize that you’re slicing the ground where I was just standing.

Oh my God. You saved me.

Now maybe I’ll stop buzzing.