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I hope I am the only one who reads my scribbles, and that's the way it should be. Hopefully everyone is too busy happily living their lives to fool with this fool. I wish that"
Scribble, is the highest praise I may offer my entries, truly. They come pouring out of my heart, and I race to record the narrative, praying for clear head and heart. Whatsoever speaks these things has my highest praise, but of one thing I am sure.
It's not me. Even as fingers fly, my arrogance seeks to own, and alter. The temptation of life, to be among the living is great. Even as fingers fly, I am admonished:
"No, not like that, THIS is the next line."
Um", OK I say. I know who signs my checks"
It's fun, being crazy. These are crazy making times, and I always pay heed when fantasy looms larger than life. Nice that, we have a cave to retreat to, having totally shat ones' diapers.
It's no small thing, to be able to say anything really. I am even tempted to believe that sitting in my chair, scribbling away, somehow redeems my sins, frees me from my guilt. Oh yes, not only crazy, but sorry.
I am sorry that I've contented myself to let everyone else speak. I am sorry for taking so long to arrive at some truth. I am so, so, sorry for so many things. But the one thing I have learned from sorrow, is that like every other thing in this world, it has a beginning, middle, and end.
That, gives me great hope, but through all brocade of this so called life, one thread has remained unchanged. Hope, like wishes, sorrow, and every other thing, comes to an end.
It is to this end, and at this end, looking down at the earth under my feet, a tiny light flickers. As I bend down to embrace the shiny, a light begins to grow in my mind and heart.
Does this light reveal the end of sorrow, of wishing? Am I come to end of hope? Pray what ever will replace my lifelong friends? Do i stand alone?
As to fulfill a covenant, the end of the end, is the beginning of the beginning. Crazy? Yes. But not insane.
To serve, is to wed love, with action. What action? How can do ever contain be? There is only one key to unlock the door of what might be.
One key to tumble the contents of that sacred closet into the room of you, in the house of us, in the city of the here and now.
To wed action with love, IS the marriage made in heaven.
I am a new bride. Let me be chaste, let me obey. May I nurture love at every turn, until my road has become straight like an arrow, fly true, seek target.
I make as if to speak, but even now, am I held mute. If I could speak I would say, "Now, now is the time to stand! Rise, dear America! Claim your seat!" I am held mute. Let me become the change I seek.
Some say, in order to seek the truth, one must first become insane. I hope so, because that means I'm getting there.
