God is a Cosmic Fisher

God is a cosmic Fisher

Who fills Their net with gems

To color the Heavens and sky.

And the Fisher knows the grandest of gems

To be found in the human eye;

These are the Angler’s looking-glasses.

Immeasurable in number,

Each one the rarest of all. And so,

We can only borrow them.

Out of grace, we get to glimpse through the net

With the promise that this game is only

Catch and release.

If only the fish had this promise,

They would jump to the hook

For just a glimmer of what sits above them.

If you knew the truth,

That all is on loan,

Would you fear still the chance to look from above?

Or would you burst out!

Flee from the oxygen!

Bite the barb into your gums and

Pull yourself up on the line?

You may find at the surface that there’s nothing at all,

And sink back down with empty lungs and

A pierced and bloody cheek.

Or,

You may find yourself exactly where you are now,

Looking into the glass,

Saying, “Who, me?”

When you feel that gazing through your eyes.

Is it you that looks?

Or is there just looking?

To be the looker means that

Somebody must be there to look at.

If you feel a feeling, who then feels

What you have felt?

Or is there rather just this;

The angler, their net,

And a mass of a million borrowed jewels.