A
Big Sleep
Feeling
a pang,
God
looked down at His body:
tiny
creatures,
His
own creations!
were
carrying off bits of Him
to
sequester in their burrows,
to
consume,
thereby partaking of His godhood,
to
exalt and worship,
to
rub against their bodies,
perhaps
to use in other ways.
Millions
of them,
for
countless mayfly generations,
had
plundered Him as He slept;
He
saw His endoskeleton,
nakedly
exposed,
shining;
His
organs of alimentation,
of
pleasure,
had
been partially removed.
Trying
to stand,
He
realized He could not,
and
now perceiving an industrious column,
entering
one organ of audition,
leaving
via another,
He
felt His thoughts mixing,
slipping
away;
the
last running like water
from
a pitcher:
I
was, I am ... what?
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