Original Whim Poem by Max Reif

Original Whim of God
that surged in the darkness
of the beginningless beginning,

blow my boat
across the created waters,
shape-shifting through the dazzling
array of this Madhatter's
tea-party of a world

in which forms finding
their own way to God
become props and furniture
in the world of other forms,
all floating in the Divine.

Blow me in mirth
through the Funhouse of Creation
to the mirror image of my Original Face,
and let me gaze
until the mirror shatters
in Realization