it is the blue that fills the clerestory window in our chapel every morning and when there is no blue, god’s name is not-this-gray. it is the blue of surprise of one more day of enchant- ment in an enchanted place. it is the insistence of blue that follows dark and dawn which can be black and orange and then humble making way for blue. it is the aliases my god uses when undercover. cobalt and sapphire and baby and robin’s eggs and cornflower are some of them and others are confidential. it is the blue of the berries which my brother bruce buys to fill our abundance so that i can adorn my cereal. it is the blue of my jeans too expensive for a poor man which still hug my legs with embrace of a god named blue. it is the blue of too many flowers whose other names i do not know so instead i call them the flowers of my god. it is the blue of cheese and wheat and corn and potatoes and plums and some raspberries and a kind of sherbert. and all these remind me of my god whose name is blue. it is the blue of motel pool where almost once I drowned but how in another blue pool brother patrick taught me to kick and swim. it is the blue of a flame that does ordinary things such as light my cigar and other secret things in a place i cannot speak of. a fire that is blue is in god’s favorite star which one one has yet seen. it is the blue of a crayon held by a child which digs into paper and slashes sky with its fisted energy. (and now I now that my waxy blue marks were true.)  it is the blue that some name true and that is also a name for god. it is the blue of eyes i have never seen face to face, but know somehow when mercy is reflected in them. and mercy is what i call god after there are no more blue things and simply silence.