So help me God

The universe has kept whispering Cormac McCarthy to me lately. I pick up his novel Suttree in the bookstore and read the first sentence to see how it lands. 

Peering down into the water where the morning sun fashioned wheels of light, coronets fanwise in which lay trapped each twig, each grain of sediment, long flakes and blades of light in the dusty water sliding away like optic strobes where motes sifted and spun.  

Worrrrdigo. For one thing, just sayin', how bout a verb, pal? Unlike my usual way, I didn’t trust my gut. I bought the book and now, after trying it again - dear blessed mother of God and all the saints in heaven. Oh, the pain - not even my enemies should know. What have I done, why did I forsake me? I check the bag for the receipt. Whew! I’ll return it tomorrow and rectify my transgression, my lapse, my doubt and never travel that road again for as long as I live and read.