We were wandering before the honey river's shore. God was kinda sad, his hand in his pockets, a pattern of the air--His air--was flying away his silver silky hair, unyieldingly--but yet tender--creases was resting aside his lips. He was silent so was I, so was His universe. "I feel bored," He said "angry and bored". I didn't know what's the appropriate word to be spelt, but I know, I always know, there's no word I could say would satisfies Him.
However, I found myself asking "What makes You that that sad, that anger, Lord?!"
God has no feeling of hesitating--you know--but He just stopped walking, looked at me with those billions-of-years-eyes, those magifesen wrinkles surrounding His knife edges eye looks, then the firm lips moved slowly, in His usuall deep tone
"My throne" He said.