Sometimes Dreams Show Me That My Writing

There Is One Purpose To Life And One Only: To Bear Witness To And Understand As Much As Possible Of The Complexity Of The World- Its Beauty, Its Mysteries, Its Riddles.

I Saw The Light,saw The Myriad Spirits Flying Loose Up The Tunnel Towards The Celestial Blaze, The Tunnel Perfectly Round And Widening As They Rose And For One Blessed Moment, One Blessed Tiny Instant, The Songs Of Heaven Resounded Down The Tunnel As If Its Curves Were Not Made Of Wind But Of Something Solid That Could Echo These Ethereal Songs, And Their Organized Rhythm, Their Heartbreaking Beauty Piercing The Catastrophic Suffering Of This Place-lestat

You Make Me Miserable. You Really Do, I Want You To Know That. Much As I Love You, Much As I Need You, Much As I Can't Exist Without You, You Make Me Miserable.

There Is A Horrifying Loneliness At Work In This Time. No, Listen To Me. We Lived Six And Seven To A Room In Those Days, When I Was Still Among The Living. The City Streets Were Seas Of Humanity; And Now In These High Buildings Dim-witted Souls Hover In Luxurious Privacy, Gazing Through The Television Window At A Faraway World Of Kissing And Touching. It Is Bound To Produce Some Great Fund Of Common Knowledge, Some New Level Of Human Awareness, A Curious Skepticism, To Be So Alone.

I Can't Believe The World Was Created In Six Days. I Do Not Take Genesis Or Revelation Literally. I Am Out. I Am Alone. I Am An Outsider For Christ. I Will Study My Bible, And Pray To God In Private And Alone. I Have No Other Choice.