So this reporter asked me
"What is this God of yours?
And why was He so misquoted?"
 
And I didn't dare guess his meaning, and said,
"God loves, and He'll judge.
God is gentle, He died abused."
 
And he cut in,
"God says love everyone,
and killed thousands.
What's the story, there?"
 
"Sure that's right.
The dreams of the self
were not the stuff of God.
Reality is troubling.
Fantasy panders to 'paradise',
helpless compulsion then.
But reality listens to God.
Fantasy is numb to the pain.
Reality rushes to His wish.
Fantasy seeks its escape."
 
"Well, so tell me, Mr. realism,
how many fantasies do you live?"
 
And I could only wonder at that,
"How do you protect an image
of what you wish for
when the harlots tell tales
and the clerks find mistakes?"
 
"I mean, how much more do you
prefer the abomination of theory
to the reality of practice?
And how do you survive
in that realm, knowing
that your achievements,
victories, lusts and ambitions
take place in your dreams,
among the demons,
and not in reality,
among the living
and the complications of life?"
 
To which he said,
"You sure don't get it;
and you sure don't understand the trade."
 
And I said, "Okay."