Never wishing to brood I put down the sandelwood brush and hope for harmony, light and merry mirth to visit. The twisted image of contorted children burning in the fires of war bring tears and the twelve ton joy crusher. Lost ostensibly forever my reckoning of humanity with those I find most “human”. Married for the moment to an unappreciative mate I find myself searching for the dark, sullen hiding place of depressed men. My dreams are not the flashing nightmares of Adonis crazed by unsullied grace, but the deep focused tutorials of transformation’s voice appealing almost willing change. These are days for light hearted fellows who can look upon sin and grin in open admiration. This time of darkened stars, a sweet sooty smell of sweat and offal brought as offering in its impurity. These are the moments few when the fallen have their day. To the Will of God I pray my allegiant understanding knowing in foreshadowing the frailty and impotence of my capacity to rule this lot, this time, without a heart to share among them. I leave less convinced of my superiority, engulfed in the awareness of the separation between righteous and untoward.

I lift my voice in cry for mercy’s hope. To pierce the void and dull grueling gray I search for Nebula’s splash of super heated gasses thinking no darkness may shroud the delight of heaven’s fury. What soft hearted reason is life so easily rested from the breast of the perfectly pure? To see the tremors being upon the ridge of hand and pass to tapping toe as anger impoverished by starvation finds new porridge in the raging august heat of my heart’s regret. Where are we gone that there is no summer’s cause for jest and smiles fill the air of community’s wealth and repair? What forgotten land has replaced the pause of blossoms render to blood red, blackened vein in corrupted flesh? Must men of courage look upon such things with hope of breeding indolence or cause for ardent quest to bring home the measure and return that which had so intrepidly found lost. Men may search dark tunnel seeking that valorous moment when death is acquainted with itself, but we were only made to travel to such places for purpose and denying fear bring God’s Wrath to the hidden. Removing their supply we hope upon all righteous breath that man’s simple and faith filled escape the broad incisors of that gaping maw.

What will to man that God has not corrected in folly’s pursuit? What words too ignorant display the lack of man’s own sense, found immeasurable by sin and impure thinking? What day so short that will to reside at the foot of God never finds light in the bosom of those with candor and courage? What harm give man to children or wife or elder patron that undeserved shall bring any measure of faith or worth? Why to unworthy cause lend the sword arm of men destined for courageous venture? How measure a man’s life that ill spent moments find themselves reconciled with deeds so honest and real, they ought not be whispered in similitude? Do cry our souls the loss of man’s kind reason? What harm have we to bring that God would allow any measure of man or life the cause to purchase such unworthy conquest? To those who wish mill stone collar never stain the sight of men who love, Love. Mud wallows to swallow up all regard of Life and Lights brilliance demeaning flesh to terminal understanding. We shall not miss the grey swirling horror beneath bridge nor shall we ever forget its abomination by forgetting for one second that evil did capture the heart’s and minds of men.