If God were a poem, she would be written in a primeval hieroglyph, indecipherable to man, but transcribed from an oral tradition every forager of seeds and berries would understand with intuitive precision.
If God were a peom, she would contain all words beauteous, which is to say all words known and unknown–all can be transfixed and transmuted by their composition to be beauty itself.
If God were a poem, she must last a lifetime of readings or a thousand lifetimes, in case we should reincarnate and forget to forget, and so must contain strophes that number as the moments of life.
If God were a poem, she would cry out against the futility of notation, until men, compelled to acknowledge the justice of her plaint, must write only a single ellipsis, denoted by a symbol not of any earthly script, and holding the place for that which cannot be spoke nor written.
If God were a poem, she would be written by numberless poets, all channeling the same verse in their own vernacular, and she would be as often lost in the library stacks as re-discovered by those few who had evolved already beyond any desire to read.
If God were a poem, you would not be reading her here.
— Josh Mitteldorf