i'm not bummed, i feel, serious. there's a difference and i need to stop confusing the two. i need to quit hiding, i'm too big and too old. hiding is a child's game, false bravado and posturing. i need to, whichever it is, quit hiding myself from my family, or my family from myself. there are no guarrenteed tomorrows so there is no use in postponing ( does anyone ever pone prepone? propane) i can do life. i can do living. i'm allowed to be. Hamlet asked the wrong question there. or maybe he answered the wrong one. it isn't noble to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageuos fortune. fortune is guidable. there are the fates and they are useless. whether one should appeal to despotism with honesty and an expectation of fairplay or with the might of God's favor cast it from our presence. what options. we arrise. since leaving the graces bestowed, we have decided that by being the meek, it is the meek that we shall protect. the only true capital is kindness, and the only true consequence is death, and that is inevitable. so the cosequence of death is inconsequential. wherein do the lies fear bestowes upon us find their grip to enter this realm of God's love? for as much as i hate to say it God is. and we are His children running around this green imprisonment. at some point the realization that there are no guards will have to be re[placed with the truth that we are the guards. He never answered Cain when Cain asked "Am I my brother's keeper?"because Cain should have known. we all should know. if we are not our brother's keepers then we are their tormentors, and who will protect us from ourselves? should we be allowed to suicide ourselves away? should we be allowed to murder the light out of this world? with cold hands should we protect the innocent? should we with callousness and mallicious forthought destroy that which will harm? if i lie down my arms in a sea of troubles, have i not forsaken the gifts that God has given me? the unforgivable sin?if sin is a physical being then God would have had to become a physical being as well to combat it. why would hHe care so much. why wouldn't He, just walk awway as we have done to Him so many times? is it because for Him to be truly sinless, as He is said to be, He had to do this to show the sin of inactivity? idleness, denying the innocent the protection He could provide, to the fullest of His ability? what sin is that to answer for in the days of judgement, to have one's idleness be the arbiture of greater harm in a blind desire to preserve this mortal coil?the amount of sin and shit that must amas on the soul to give that thought, those thoughts, the brreath of life that God had given us? do we make sin stronger with our callousness, indifference, idolatry, and idleness?what frothing wake of blood would trail a man to the gates of heaven, to be ridden down to the depths of eternal suffering. wha a colorless soul that spectre would be. what future that would bear on these earths. strength is such a frail thing it seems. i am ready for it. a tiny flame to be carried by such a frail thing as myself. as any person with jumbled thoughts, twisted ruminations, and fearful ponderings of the outer universe. we are all God's creatures. seemed such a useless and trite phrase. trivial, a way to toss a question and hjave no further exploration of the answers. where does that stop? that we are all of God, and therefore to be for God, with God? i think of the child she told me about and wonder at the wonder i've missed out on. i wonder how my mother walks without that idea bringing her crippled to her knees. why it took so lng for her to try to get clarity, and how she'll still pass me by? wha does she define as a success in her daily life? what, more importantly, does she define as a failure? there isn't a day i don't think of that girl that i've never met. that i will most probably, never meet, never get to lie about why the sky is blue, just to mess with her head. never get to.... a lot of things, teach her what good music is, good poetry, with the hope that she'll do it better than i. hold her hand through the bad times that i can't even imagine, having never been a little girl, just acting like one. black skies vomit down rain right now, the monsters are worrisome, and i find solace. slow music with fast thinking, wobbly typing, as a faceless girl dances 'roound and 'round growing up and away, man, to hold her through rain, and teach her it isn't that bad. take her out in it. it scares me to feel like a human being. we all have a resposibilty in this world. on the genealogical sense we have to continue the line, like fucking cockroaches, but as human beings, we have keep the flame of love and hope and joy and wonder alive, so that with the heat of this maybe God will see that we have grown and can ve let back into the house where the cold is good, because it makes the getting warm that much better. what the fuck have i been doing with my life? afraid to write, to be, to not be. afraid to be seen, afraid of the things that leave, that are taken away. to wander the land of ... wandering. iowa. idiot out wandering around. days like these are not the time for sleep. days like these are to be taken in. days like these are for dicovering. wonder childlike, at the world, for answers. living isn't for dying. and we all die alone. it's my road to wander. i'm basically proud of who i am, just not what i've become. this too shall pass.
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