5100. TAKE MY TANTRUM IN A LOVING WAY

TAKE MY TANTRUM 

IN A LOVING WAY

Before long, before long, before long, all these things

may pass, and I shall be left standing alone again. The

harbinger of next-times is coming in; I read it and smell

it in the air I breath. Along the way, every little, boxy house

seems mine  -  the people who live within are invisible, the

paths they walk, from driveway to mailbox, invisible as well.

I can talk to inhabitants of every place I've been, and in a

most-loving way ask forgiveness for my dreams and whims.

-

Sometimes deep at night I find my self crying, asleep and

dazed, yet crying some more : over a million nightmarish

things that never come to pass. Why is that? I don't know  -  

the same dawn is always purple, or so it seems to my reddened

eyes. Groping for a pillow in the middle of the night suffices and

will have to do. No guardian angel will be speaking for me.

-

Is this what it must be like, I sometimes wonder, to be a savior

or messiah to those who believe? Do all words fail, and does

sweat in turn just turn to blood before the death? How many 
things really happen at once, and how many-layered is the 
world we are in? It's no difference, and it's no wonder either. 
And I cannot get stuck in the thinking; no, I cannot
get stuck in the thinking of such.