...a thousand times more stunning

Sometimes I think I love poetry too much to study it formally.

To dissect and investigate it to death, to impose upon it, to presume, to say that it is this or that, that it means X, that it doesn't mean Y. To have a handle on it. To have an opinion about it.

I'm afraid it might lose its charm for me then, its mystery, its ungraspable loveliness. That's a bit how I feel about theology--it is ridiculous to say what God is, when we are really only guessing, throwing our theories about like pebbles into a lake. What impertinence. What insane arrogance.

How much wiser is it to let the beautiful words of a poem wash over you like the sweetest, clearest waves of a benevolent ocean, to admire it as you would the sunlight in a meadow as it weaves rays of pure gold into the grass. How much better to allow God to be mystery, beautiful as a poem and a thousand times more stunning. If we really saw God at all, I suspect that we would speak much, much less.