Sometimes I see the internet as an oily black sky; like the sky over the beach by my cottage. I am grounded with my toes buried in cold sand, head craned up and back, eyes as wide as they will go. Stars that blink morse-coded messages to my heart. Satellites that follow an arched path across the night. Waves that crash against my frontal lobe and drag all my thoughts out with the tide. I long to lick a finger and touch it to the light, have it cling to me with nothing but the power of my tongue to hold it steady. Keep it flush against my skin.
I would find a deity in the meaning, in the bright emptiness of the world.