I wonder sometimes. probably not enough.
seems pointless.
here, viewpoints, walls...seperation.
there used to be marks. they knew us by them. they saw and heard. sacrifice was painful. suffering was desired.
now...word bombs are thrown. explosions of emotion and dogmatic lines in the sand spew molten flesh on us from hidden places.
trying to justify places in what seem like battle.
philistines taunt Him, and we taunt them. mostly we taunt each other.
falsehoods erupt as if truth, and it must be respected for fear of attack.
someone is bbq-ing.
tollerance is mearly fear with a turtleneck.
political power is the fruit to be desired. the need to be told what to do and not to do is often overwhelming. with out them, how would we know?
spineless debutaunts dressed with satin and pleasant aroma fill the senses.
simple tasks seem fleeting.
no score to be kept, no way of measurement.
bodies are stacked up like chord wood ready for the fire.
where are my keys?
statues with clay feet rise up and beckon us to come.
and sheep follow the loudest bell, failing to glance up at the noise.
purification comes only through fire, yet cooler temps are preferred.
genuine thought is as rare and delicate as the spring blossom.
war?
what war?
has anyone seen my camera?
do we charge or should we ambush?
the manual does not deal with this horror. or does it?
reality. questions. darts. armor.
kill or capture? ememy or friend?
I am pretty sure all I was supposed to do did not prepare me for this.
wait. I did not drink today. did not commit adultry. did not steal. did not kill. said a prayer.
all is well.
