Worship and Sex

I had sex the other day. And I’d like to tell you about it.

I was a fish living in a cold and dark lake. Most of my time was spent swimming around, nibbling on whatever cold and dark things fish nibble on. I wasn’t sad, but my joys were small.

The keel of a white canoe glided across the waters above me. I looked up for the first time in as long as I could remember. I swam up toward the surface to see.

There was a woman in the boat, shining in the bright light of the sun. She reached her hand down into the water and touched me. For half a minute I was enraptured in the first true worship I’ve ever felt.

I was raised religious. I made it my duty to chase after mystic connections with God. But I never came as close as I did when that shining woman touched my face. My entire body exploded with vibrant, shimmering sensation. Everything in my world flashed with a light so bright you could taste it. I opened my mouth and cries of worship to the Woman fell out of me. I had found my true God. I wept with her tears as she drew me close and kissed my cold lips.

The heat entered and changed me. I was alive for the first time. I worshiped her and I wrestled with her. We were one for a moment. For a beautiful moment, not only did I worship God, I became God.

Then she had to go. Gently she pushed away, trailing a hand in the water behind her as she went. I swam after her, in the ripples her hand made, drinking in the scattered light she left behind.


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