DEAD MAN, DEAD MAN
Some sort of venture this is : malformed like
a tweak-hammer, crippled like a broken bird.
The fiery wind, I notice now, is ripping the
roof shingles apart; no wonder all that noise.
How many times has one wished for silence and
a peacefulness that never comes? The low sky
is a simple tremor. It skims the land and tires
of tearing never - like thorns in the side of a
steed, the sting only momentarily slows us down.
Insufferable as we are, we barrel past each obstacle
in our way. Bellowing loudly 'Straight is the way of
God!' - even as we hear the little voice within saying:
'But there is a tree ahead of us!' or then 'There
is a wall in front of us!' and finally 'We can go
no farther! The way is blocked!' Only again does
that voice say - 'Straight is the way of the Lord!
Let us forge on to where no obstacle blocks!'
Blind faith. A stupid nullity. The true belief of
the dolt. Perhaps we are just too stupid to
realize the inundation of the nothing
under which we are drowning.
Some sort of venture this is : malformed like
a tweak-hammer, crippled like a broken bird.
The fiery wind, I notice now, is ripping the
roof shingles apart; no wonder all that noise.
How many times has one wished for silence and
a peacefulness that never comes? The low sky
is a simple tremor. It skims the land and tires
of tearing never - like thorns in the side of a
steed, the sting only momentarily slows us down.
Insufferable as we are, we barrel past each obstacle
in our way. Bellowing loudly 'Straight is the way of
God!' - even as we hear the little voice within saying:
'But there is a tree ahead of us!' or then 'There
is a wall in front of us!' and finally 'We can go
no farther! The way is blocked!' Only again does
that voice say - 'Straight is the way of the Lord!
Let us forge on to where no obstacle blocks!'
Blind faith. A stupid nullity. The true belief of
the dolt. Perhaps we are just too stupid to
realize the inundation of the nothing
under which we are drowning.
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