In the car, trapped amongst strangers, that is when I begin to feel the weight. One narrates, and others do not speak, or encourage. The lightning flashes outside, for one moment revealing a world of stark contrasts — pure white sky and black trees standing like the frame of a gutted house; it is old and beautiful, but inside, the weight grows. He justifies his banal evil with the finery of elitism. From his mouth spew strands of shadow and they web my heart. The lightning flashes; the car drives on, and only I feel how difficult it is to breathe and feel penned in by the rain, by the words, as the fire burns within. I long to speak the words of truth burning inside my chest, but to speak would be to vomit glass shards, for I know this shadow as shadow, and to speak would be to set every face in disarray and disunion. So I hold my tongue and think just how little what I feel and what I think matters — and how inconsequential so much of the world now truly is.
Yet must we be so inconsequential? Has history and all we have learned been given so that we may discuss Uncle Harvey’s hernia and the fountain of the neighbors for hours? Have we been chosen so that we could fritter away our short hours on circular discussions that solve nothing and come to nothing? We are drowned in mundanity and addicted to mediocrity, and our ire is directed at the bothersome nonconformists who remind us of the hollowness of our ways.
Thus I bury my thoughts in papyrus; I consign my soul to the graveyard of paper. In an age where the written word has lost its hold upon permanence, it is also loosening its hold upon relevance and endurance. Still, these are thoughts which no-one cares to hear, and which no-one must hear. These words would be shorn of sheen were others to read them — these, my secret words, my own private language, this etymology of the soul as it experiences the decay and death of the world; I stand upon a cliff and see the stars pulled into the sea. Though a few will be pulled up by the Messiah when He returns, the stage is now being set for societal chaos, ruin, and collapse. Then the end of the age will arrive, like a troop of executioners, sweeping all light before them. The new dark age is imminent.
I realize that I will always be lonely. However, it remains difficult to experience this from those near to my heart. God, draw me close to You. Do not let me disappointment with people make me love them any less or seek to replace You with them, and then cry ceaselessly about the misery I had obtained from doing something so foolish. Only You understand. Only You provide. Only You love completely. I am dust animate for a time, for these small hours, and then I am not. What are the eyes of men to me? What is the adulation of the crowd to me? Only You are and will be always; all of my injuries will fade; all of my pain will recede. Your love remains, and I remain. You love me and that is enough.