It's Amazing The Fantasies Your Mind Can

Don't Cling To Things Because Everything Is Impermanent.

You'll Come To My Grave? To Tell Me Your Problems?" My Problems? "yes.' And You'll Give Me Answers? "i'll Give You What I Can. Don't I Always?" I Picture His Grave, On The Hill, Overlooking The Pond, Some Little Nine Foot Piece Of Earth Where They Will Place Him, Cover Him With Dirt, Put A Stone On Top. Maybe In A Few Weeks? Maybe In A Few Days? I See Myself Sitting There Alone, Arms Across My Knees, Staring Into Space. It Won't Be The Same, I Say, Not Being Able To Hear You Talk. "ah, Talk . . . " He Closes His Eyes And Smiles. "tell You What. After I'm Dead, You Talk. And I'll Listen.

The Word 'commitment' Has Lost It's Meaning. I'm Old Enough To Remember When It Used To Be Positive. A Commited Person Was Someone To Be Admired. He Was Loyal And Steady. Now A Commitment Is Something You Avoid. You Don't Want To Tie Yourself Down.

He Was Near Tears, 'who Do I Blame?' He Kept Asking Me. 'there Is No God.i Can Only Blame Myself.'" The Reb's Face Tightened, As If In Pain. "that," He Said, Softly, "is A Terrible Self-indictment." Worse Than An Unanswered Prayer? "oh Yes. It Is Far More Comforting To Think God Listened And Said No, Than To Think That Nobody's Out There.

It's Amazing The Fantasies Your Mind Can Put Together.