Telegram To God

The Universal Game Plan
A telegram to God.


I came, I saw, I did not conquer, I watched. Stop.

Later, "they" come around. Stop.

Always, they come around after many moons and suns have risen. Stop.

A thief arose grinning his game. Stop.

A capitalist wearing rags of opportunistic enterprise. Stop.

The wind blew me into his doorway. I knew it was the breath of God. I am friends with the wind. Stop.

I had need of a moment's respite. Stop.

Time passes. Stop.

The good times are swift and dizzying. Stop.

The bad times crawl painfully by. Stop.

It is only the human game. Stop.

My town is not mine. It is a stopover place. Stop.

My town quivered in fear. Stop.

If you seek justice said they, it must be you are impoverished in truth. Stop.

You must look the other way and notice how money talks. So said the town. Stop.

"Who do you think you are?" The gophers and paper shufflers asked with whispers; with fear, with frowns and grimaces.

Even judges scurried hither and thither. Stop.

I asked for an apology. Stop.

To this came but a snicker. Stop.

An apology was worth more than gold and silver. Stop.

What I asked for was rarified in the earth, but only this will satisfy and replenish all souls into true abundance circumstance. Stop.

I received man's justice and they say I won. Stop.

Man's justice measured with money was offered. Stop.

Less than half of what was taken from me was offered by way of recompense. Stop.

I will not ask for the money, it should be given voluntarily. Stop.

To prove half a point is better than to prove nothing of the point at all. Stop.

They will pay, or they will not pay their debt. I am done. Stop.

To pursue the money is pointless when it's the apology that was desired most of all. Stop.

I will be watching, but not waiting. Stop.

I will be ready. As they ALWAYS come around. Stop.

The scales of justice are balanced perfectly in eternity, my home town. Stop.

There are pennies in heaven. Every jot and tittle is accounted for, all debts paid and so many apologies abound, you can only bust out laughing at the human game plan here on earth. Stop.

All my love, I sign off, the one you sent into the game for your own purposes. When can I come home? Send bus fare. Hurry. Stop.