Its presence (An Anglican Ghost II)

Alive with God,
burning inside and without,
a flame temporal and spatial,
yet entirely within... I have the luxury of this,

my sophistry. Allegories are given to those
who can afford them,
the transaction across the trestle-table of time,
when bones don't cry and skin doesn't rash.

A flame can be a metaphor when you're not on a pyre.
Alive with God, as the Old Ages were,
when a man had no choice when he wanted to be sane,
or kept in the hearts of his mortal siblings.

Is it insane, now, to speak to God, an atheist like me?
To request Its presence in some form,
a great, burning simplicity,
an answer to all equations.