Our notions of God are sometimes like a matador's red diversion.
Wanting certainty, we charge toward our notions. We charge, desiring help and peace--and, occasionally, authorization for war.
For right and wrong and no and muddled reasons, we charge the red illusion.
Finished, we imagine, with belief, we imagine sometimes we gore God. Ludicrous us. Ludicrous premise: that God is premised on our belief.
If God is, God is not where belief has written God. God is, no, not there, but here; God is poised ubiquity. If God were not to be, our beliefs concerning God are at irrelevant.
The red cape disappears. The matador vanishes. There becomes here. That which is, becomes.