To leap from the top of the temple is to jump off the head of a sleeping God, commanding him to wake up and open his slumbering eyes and catch the jumper. It is to live as if I am the one awake in this world and my sleeping God must be aroused. But is God who is awake not me. His seven eyes never close and it is he who looks to protect my feet from stumbling over what my eyes cannot see, it is he that sends the angels to attend, not me. He both sees me and sees through me, though I can not see him. If I hear a voice deep as it is quiet, a voice from eternity, a voice that is not me; a voice that is anything but the flat voice of a future it could never see; commanding me to jump, I will.