The Obscure

Welcome, one and all, to the incongruent ravings of an inferior mind!

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

 
And their victory that day was subdued, for all the people knew that the king grieved for his son...

I have been as a stranger in a strange land, behold, as a wild ass in the desert I go forth to my work.
Words spill out of my thoughts much too fast, it has always been impossible for me to control them. Who would pity me for this thing? I, the son of a line of mad brilliance. I take to heart the love inherent in the minds of all humanity, but I find no comfort there.
Feelings spin out of control, and I try to cling to their backs like a spider monkey wrestling a rabid gorrilla. What God would give me strength or solace? I, a Man who is too much of a worm to raise a knife even to end his own misery.
Time makes a fool of me, I have come into my age and this age a century unready. What devil is so evil that I am tormented so? I, who have tasted time and escaped with a child's soul. Satan laughs and lines up his torments, when I get to hell it will be as nothing to this life.

Nor Man, nor God, nor Fallen Angel has comfort or place for a dead-man walking; and that has been my state since I first pressed a knife to my breast all those years ago. If I had only the balls to plunge that same knife into my heart, and be released once more onto the great wheel; perhaps it is not that on this Earth no divine comfort nor friendly company can save me from my misery, perhaps it is only that I am unwilling to carve my own place out of time and space and make my own fortune. What is it the faithful say? "God helps those who help themselves."
And still I feel if I give up the ghost my spirit will go wild and free to join in the ranks of the faithful.
That's right, let the boy's constant grief gnaw at his vitals. The Age of Man has work to do.

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