A thought of God, and the Imago Dei.

 Wearing a non-descript beret, aimlessly walking about the riverfront, Culbert Flemming.

I lapsed into a dream.

I wondered of God, what He was thinking of, was He thinking of me, and so on, so forth.

Indeed, I had the commonality feeling, the shared experience of all, in living in the glow of the Lord; furthermore that the glow meant that not one of us was out of His reach, no matter the circumstances, no matter the depth of depravity we might descend toward.  It would be impossible for us, of course, but a mere thought to Him to bring it off, and with ease.

Culbert Flemming could be redeemed and made anew, regenerated as it were, even rebranded, restored.

I could.

Anyone could.

Be made whole.

All with that equal packaging twine synapse that not only holds us together, but attaches each one to each other one individually, quadrillions of connections for a few billion people: all one, or all looking in that light to be, if not together, then at least sharing an equal measure of God between us.

The analog brain of all reality, the cosmos, the world, the flesh and the devil, and the imagination of God, and in something as simple an inconsequential as a single thought, a life made new, different and so much for the better.

The analog Culbert Flemming wandering along just like the overall itinerary of the known future--a projection?  an analyst estimate?  Sauce for the goose, it is, and it is all the glorious, unlimited mind of God.  Culbert Flemming's wandering might be the emblem of that musing that seems to mark so much of our lives, our own imaginations, with that Imago Dei, that small ember of the larger Corona of the thoughts of God.

A future, you say?

Let me consider it, I respond.

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