Imagine a white world
where white flowers fall
from a white sky
to rest in soft piles
upon white grass covering
white fields, white hills
roll away
into
a white distance.
A world so hushed,
footsteps make no noise,
voices are stilled, gestures
suffice, and all thought rests
in its origin,
the white mind
of God.
Because I can imagine
this white place, hold it
for a second in my mind,
can I imagine God?
Does he imagine me
imagining?
