There Seemed Nothing To Do But Live.

The Gods, The Immortals, Were The Inventors Of Death And Corruption; Yet With One Or Two Notable Exceptions They Have Lacked The Courage To Try Their Invention Out On Themselves.

Perhaps We Invented The Gods So That We Could Put The Blame On Them. They Gave Us Permission To Eat Flesh. They Gave Us Permission To Play With Unclean Things. It's Not Our Fault, It's Theirs. We're Just Their Children.

It Is Not, Then, In The Content Or Substance Of Folly That Its Difference From Truth Lies, But In Where It Comes From. It Comes Not From 'the Wise Man's Mouth' But From The Mouth Of The Subject Assumed Not To Know And Speak The Truth.

He Knows Too Much About Himself To Subject Her To A Morning After, When He Will Be Cold, Surly, Impatient To Be Alone.

So It Has Come, The Day Of Testing. Without Warning, Without Fanfare, It Is Here, And He Is In The Middle Of It. In His Chest His Heart Hammers So Hard That It Too, In Its Dumb Way, Must Know. How Will They Stand Up To The Testing, He And His Heart?