July 9, 2001

In the aftermath can be found remnants of forgotten prose. I sit here collecting the shattered pieces, carefully molding them back together. Of this has come deeper, more yearning questions. Primarily, why do I have such moments of complete destruction? I am not, by nature, a violent person. Yet, when I have these instances, I forget my rational mind. Check please, sanity has left the building. Alas.

Deeper issues provoke me still. I am an aspect of the Divine, save my humanity. As all reflect facets of the Great One, which in truth culminates all, then darkness, naked lack of being, also exists as a dim reflection of that eeternal light.

I must confess that I ponder more deeply than most the nature and relationship of myslf with the Divine. I happened upon pure emotion this morn. As I read a tome depicting the loss of a beloved pet by an elderly female character in a book, it occurred to me to griece. In that brief instant, I beheld the full gammit of pain and torment. Yet, my more sanguine portion quickly squelched that feeling. Again, I was left wanting. Reminded of heartache and not cursed with its cause, aided me in understanding the depth of being left undone.

Although I have many steps to tarry before I loose my sandles in final rest, it does compel me to realize the sacrosinct taste of it all. As I reach, and discover, the raging depth of my immortal Soul, the increasingly ponderous I become into the very nature of being.

If a man, in the grasp of sanity, can so openly abase that logic and in so doing negate his sensibilities, then how can one devoid of such reason survive from one moment to the next? It behouves my Soul to comprehend. We but taste a morsel of human mortality, barely to digest its sustenance, before once again bidden to sup at the table of forever. How then can we remain finite? When our own eternal nature shrouds us in its shadow?

Time itself be but a cloak awaiting the moth. We wear it most heavily. If not for my sense of Etnernity and its everlasting rest, then the thought of this Life would, too, become more than I could bear. Alas. Such things are best left for more sober moments. And I am still too fresh from the flask to think in waking breaths. So I shall rouse from my slumber most slowly, lest I shake from my Spirit the very magick that carries my thoughts heavenward.