Deus

Quem és tu, Ó Deus?

És esse Ser Supremo ao qual me hei de dirigir com palavras que não uso, com pessoas e pronomes, és o  Deus Forte, Santo, Imortal proclamado nas orações cheias de maiúsculas e rituais?

Ou é esse pro qual eu canto, bato palmas, louvo e brinco?

É um Deus que eu trato por você, meu melhor amigo, que não me abandona e a quem eu, toda noite, devo relatar meu dia?

És o mandante dos Anjos, Senhor das Terras Celestiais, que imagino aparecendo entre nuvens de barba branca, auréolas e manto?

Ou é um pedaço de mim que não sei onde está, que me eleva e trás consigo potenciais infinitos?

Misericordioso, dando aos filhos várias chances, regendo a gigantesca sinfonia universal e rindo consigo mesmo, apesar de condoído, quando erro e me perco?

É você o pai de braços abertos que me dizem?

Ou esse que morde e assopra, que me quebra com dores e provas, para depois me dar graças infindas, lindas, celestiais?

É um Deus que quer que eu louve, ou que eu viva o que prega?

Se importa com a Missa aos Domingos, descansou no sétimo dia? Que queres, Deus, que eu faça, com o que hoje sou?

E o que sou, tu que me destes? Tu escolhestes, Pai, esse corpo, essa família, essa chance?

Que porcentagem eu tenho de responsabilidade, quanto eu fiz e quanto fazes tu, comigo, dia após dia?

Queres que eu mude? Me crê errada? Crê nos dogmas que aqui na Terra impuseram em Teu Nome?

Serei eu infiel por perguntar-me? Por perguntar-te?

Minhas questões serão respondidas um dia? 
Se forem, quem o fará?

E como saberei, Deus, se a resposta me foi mandada por Ti?

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