Masters of Fake Fruit

The swankier the store the more successful the fake foods in the kitchen section are at stimulating my rebellious salivary glands.

I’ve come to despise those artisans in plastics.

But I’m an artisan of my own sort, frequently surrounded by like kind. Our imitations are also good enough at first glance to fool, sadly, even ourselves, for a while.

Unlike masters in plastics whose creations outlast the lifespan of that which they imitate, ours tend to be an anemic companion to their counterpart. But as originals have come to rarity, the imitations, particularly good ones, are trendy enough to pass, for a while. But to what end?

What is this communion?

In my childhood a peer of mine posed a question to me like a sphinx on a road.

If you were in the middle of a conversation with someone and God told you to pray, would you:

A) Continue your conversation, ignoring the impulse, likely telling yourself you would pray later.
B) Wrap up your conversation and go somewhere private to pray.
C) Stop immediately and pray.

I answered ‘B’ and within the hour I paid the price for that incorrect response. The answer is C. Today I again challenge myself and possibly others – the answer is, stop immediately and pray.

What is this privileged communion?

This glorious incredulous option
Bowing my will, my motive, my care
Wise and essential abasement that sets my soul to flight
Communing with unspeakable Power
Encapsulated, if that were the plausible descript, in love
Words unneeded, true presence suffice
Sound and sometimes sight of hidden things of God
Faith to follow
Spirit provoked guttural impulses
Spurring many a blind obedience
What is this communion?
Sustenance, life, breath, water... all