A vision came to me last night. At first, I did not know what to make of it. I saw a form most difficult to describe. The form was long, slender, flaccid, pale-yellow in color, and it had the distinct odor of boiled wheat. As I contemplated the one strand, more appeared, and still more, until I saw a wriggling ellipse of these strands
Pondering this amazing sight, I witnessed two strands rise up and swell as cheese flakes flew in, as a swarm of wasps would, and coalesce as into balls atop the swelling strands, and from these balls of cheese, a substance like pesto in smell and appearance welled up as though secreted by a gland, spreading, forming a deep green-black dot upon each ball of cheese. As this... metamorphosis transpired, these strands began to appear and behave as eye stalks on a crab or perhaps a snail. I could feel a sensation unlike any I've felt before, and yet it was oddly familiar. It could best be described as a cold, sharp glare, peering right through me, right into my mind combined with the warm, familiar sensation of smelling the scent of garlic and tomatoes at a corner pizzeria, like the sort you'd find on Long Island or in New York. I felt love.
At this point, perhaps only 5 seconds had passed, and yet I can see it, even now, in such rich detail that I may have well had studied it for a lifetime. It became apparent to me that these wriggling strands were nothing otherworldly - they were quality durum wheat semolina spaghetti. As tangle wriggled, it likewise expanded, and within moments, I could identify ground meat coated with marinara sauce as meatballs of immense proportions emerged.
It was unmistakable. I was in the very presence of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and He had chosen to reveal Himself to me in all his wonderful glory. He spoke, and yet I could not hear. I heard words, and it was intelligible, but my mind could not digest it, could not comprehend it. I heard Him speak, yet I could not hear it. Even now, His image is clear in my mind, His words, echoing in my ears, and I strain to hear.
As I write this now, one thing has become apparent to me. I had not been touched by His Noodly Appendage. I saw His form in its entirety, an indescribably glorious image, as if my mind had been expanded to witness the universe in its entirety. Yet, never once did a noodly strand approach me, let alone bless me with its touch. I had seen it. It is no longer a matter of faith, for I had actually seen the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I want to follow His will, but I cannot hear, I cannot understand. It makes no sense to me.
And so, tired and defeated, I humbly approach the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster for help. Why can I not hear? What does the FSM have planned?