Honest To God

I finally got honest to God.
I said, "Everybody's either
begging or selling something:
what's your angle?"
God said, "I'm begging
for your next breath.
And I'm offering a deal:
Give me back the sound of rain.
Give me the touch of golden fur.
Give me the tweet of the flycatcher,
the blue sky in the chalice
of a morning glory.
Give me the fragrance of compost
when April finally arrives
with her chorus of worms.
Give me the scent that drives
you maddest, the memory
of her hair, or the brackish sea wind
guiding you back to the sand.
Give me the way the stars appeared
when you could still climb
like a goat into their emptiness.
The payment I'm asking
is every sensation
you ever felt
and its echo in your mind,
the story you've been
telling yourself for eons.
Offer it all and become
as hollow as an orchid's stem.
In return, I'll pour this breath
back into your heart
and tell you my name.
You will be the orchid.