Forsaken

O God! My God!
Why have you forsaken me?
I know I am you, and nothing but you.
I am God!
I say this not from hubris but humility,
and as a cry of my deep faith.
I am God!
But yet I am forsaken.
I know what God is.
God is love.
I am love.
I know what God is.
God is hate.
I am hate.
And God,
I am fear and evil and loathing and righteousness
and good and light and the sand beneath my own feet.
For I am you God, or, rather, you are me.
I have forsaken myself.
I am too much.
I am the ocean stuck in a well.
I am as deep as infinity itself, but
my presence in this world, my well stones,
are too small and too few to convey my enormity.
I am forsaken in this body God, and by this
very consciousness which is now speaking.
I am eternity burning on the head of a match.
I burn!
I am the burning body of God.
Blow me out!
Why am I forsaken?
Do I know too much?
I was born with the apple, and
the will to eat it.
I was worn with God’s will, and
am living with God’s pain—
the blissful pain of existence without time.
Oh God! My God!
I know there is strength enough buried in our eternity,
but am I forsaken enough to find it?
Oh God! My God!
Why has thou so blessed me
that I can embrace my own forsakenness?
Blessed is the Lord,
and I am blessed.

-Kegen Dean Benson