Gritted teeth at the mention of chaos and calamity. So in love with order and procedure that I seldom venture into the realm of possibility, preferring to predictably enter each episode fully assured the lack of twists, turns, mystery and unfortunately instantaneous Joy. In fearful anticipation I have written the next chapters or at least the sentences that lead to comfort, peace and limited opportunity for growth or mystery. Hope is a wild thing, finding joy and faith in the unknown that is fully rooted in the absolute.

Feeling the way forward, I step back into my customary shield of fear. Way lay beyond this request, this question shares the potential shame for which I have established reliable crutch and bastion. Hiding in the familiar I comfort myself in the old and the completely understood, basking in my lack of the dangers found in newness and mystery. I appeal to the prevalent sense of Safety to keep my complacence. Let no bad thing come my way that may transform my capacity to prevail in dark times. For I want the path easily mastered, the broad boulevard of humanity’s march to Easy Street.

Make no thing too hard for my comfortable dominance. Enslave all those attempts at maturity and mastery keeping it forever simple that I may find comfort. All hills, valleys and tunnels should be erased, all things made flat. Let all trees be removed and deserts erected that no thing may hide from sight to surprise. Let all things remain mediocre, as the glasses and base colors of our garment that none should stand above or below, equal by elimination. Let talents be equally divided and those gifted given crutch, cane or cast to inhibit movement outside the Bell Curve of normalcy and analytic assumption.

Utopia be my friend in your false eloquence and dimmed lighting. For if Paradise be our sounding then stop Twain’s marking this instant. For their can be no uniqueness in shroud’s mystery nothing beyond ordinary to build or seed hope’s anticipatory ignorance. For bliss be ignorance as it peruses nothing, seeks emptiness and marches sullen away from content rich living. This is not paradise to be separate from God Almighty, lacking; light, life and the powers of creation yet to those who live in the empowered imaginary deception it is the foundation of any desire at resistance to God and all things real.

Give me not the trials leading to purity, strength and delight for I want the simple, the Cro-Magnon and the tame aspects of cruelty, hunger and dominance. Let me live a life of imaginary devices, destinations and declaration of my own glory. For in the affect of life’s pressure I am revealed. I find only shame in my unmaking at the testing of Life’s Crucible. In to the furnace you shall go to stand hand in hand with Maker while I repose on the comforts of temporary existence, finding peace outside peculiarity in the land of all that is known.