Madness of God

We dream to see him but could we?
We describe his glory and splendor but should we?
We imagine his strength and wisdom but can we?
He envelops and engulfs this world in mystery.
He conceals himself within himself.
He knows everything before you.
You paint his face but does he have one?
You realize his strong arm but does he posses one?
You think he hates you when he loves you.
You describe his actions as curses when there really blessings in disguise.
You think you know him when it’s impossible to know.
You cry out of pain from your suffering, when really they should give you joy.
We credit the work of our hands when it was given to us.
We mistake nature as natural.
We have faith in time of glee and spite in time of pain.
The world is not when we think it is all.
We fool ourselves, and think we fooled the world.
We are petrified of insanity; we fear it or are it.
We have a phobia, illness, and madness for God.
We try to portray, describe, and imagine.
Dream, hope, and live.
Die to long, desire and feel.
All else we fathom but God we cannot.
With zeal I say we are mad for God.