I look up, and I see the Face Of God in the angry, boiling skies.
I look down, and there’s piles of clothes everywhere. A few unguided cars roll into streetlamps or bushes.
Rapture? Well, isn’t that nice. Bye bye, fundamentalists.
I’m sure that a few houses will start to burn because ovens have been left on. Or planes will crash because pilots have vanished and cockpit doors are locked these days.
My next-door neighbor’s empty Armani suit in a pile. In his driveway.
Next to his lovely, perfect Ferrari.
I may not be Saved, but I am truly blessed.
The Saved And The Blessed
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