I can’t redeem the time. To sense slipping away. The mind as it experiences, rules wrinkled. Two hate each other, no other two on earth. It might do damage; I hope we bounce back. Too much spirit, too many words. Years preying on a mantis. Lions ignoring gnats. Jerusalem known for grieving; Africa remains trespassed. The will to move further, the bounty on those souls. Why does it return to religiosity – why must two experience life? I imagine deeper sorrows, too much to walk away; and God might have a hand in it all. Thoughts facing beauty, aesthetics bleeding, depth and disaster; longing for clarity, nothing more, just clarity; and that’s too much. It becomes this: If one longs for it, someone will oppose it. It never comes without struggle, unmentionable resistance. When there is a flood, we build an ark; when there is a covenant, we select a witness; when we work seven years, we earn a wife. I ponder these things, given nothing for participating. In all honesty, it can’t help but frighten a soul. I’m not nosy, and still I wonder, what do people tolerate – how much pretend is in a given family? Such kindness—and sullen waves—with arts seeming like riddles. I live by – It isn’t my business. What do we do when one wants to be located, and tries hard to remain hidden? Heaven might be another trial, an uncanny event, more frustration. Maybe constant resistance gives a soul reason to live. It seems unreasonable. And it peters out, but only as a strategy.
