Incoherence

I'd like to slip into your thoughts,
like a lucid dream I'd walk around,
looking for what Beauty lies there.
I have glimpsed it in some of you,
and my dives have left curiosity in its wake.

But I cannot stroll around your minds.
It must suffice for you to paint me a portrait.
Of meadows, mermaids, or mercury--
whatever helps me to understand.
But our method must be careful,
I cannot take all of the whispers,
raising to yelps of joy and fear.
It sounds like jibberish, chatter,
great wailing and gnashing of teeth.

I imagine Hell as a place of incoherence.
A room piled with bodies,
some lying some leaping, none really care which,
of those who wished no part of God in life,
and receives such in the one after.
It is full of depravity, vice, sickness,
and most notably--
incoherence.
They know not of their neighbor's existence,
each crying out, shouting, laughing.
Sheer insanity, their words and gestures,
habits from a world nearly forgotten.
Motion without meaning-- like hellish automatons.
Their state of being is incomprehensible,
due to their incoherent behaviors.

So, when we all stand together,
yet each speaks independently,
raising volumes become yells,
cries, and I know not,
if some are weeping or rejoicing,
I think I've fallen into that dark chasm.
Every moment elongated, madness sets in,
as if a wind of blackness has swooped in,
to put out the wisp of my candle's light.
I can't focus on any one person,
I no longer know their intent,
I cannot discern what they are doing,
all I can sense is a growing noise.
Incoherence.

So I flee.
Forsake me not,
nor think me ill-willed toward you,
for I know your ends are well-meant.
But I cannot stand isolation in a full room,
I feel more separated from God then,
then any other time.
I begin to imagine ludicrous things,
either I have been forsaken,
or that we believe in two different gods.
I leave to find Him again,
to silence the movement to chaos.
For I believe God promotes a sense of Harmony,
and that which moves to otherwise,
is thought Beautiful by the incoherent.

And for those that are offended by my departure,
but ask not for my reason,
what am I to do?
When I tell you we can talk about it,
but you walk away,
what shall I do?
For you have forsaken me,
judged me,
and not sought to understand first,
but rather to condemn.
I cannot be "together" in a room of individuals,
for none of their words might edify the church,
since you all speak to God,
but do so alone,
and not with your brothers and sisters.
There is time to be alone,
and time for community,
and we mustn't mix inconsistent qualities,
lest we become,
incoherent.