Our philosophical pursuer of exalted thought has been rarely seen of late; his days seeming to consist of epic walks & even more epic sessions of intellectual secretion. Some fragments that have come to my attention have me troubled- containing as they do hints of a descent into realms from where one tends to emerge either as a kind of archetypal Hero figure, or incurably insane. Anyway, see what you think.
Do you dare look upon my visage? Is it not terible to behold? That is because I Am. You are, as yet, Not. Do you reach up your hand towards my height? Be careful not to assume I will grab it.
God is decomposing in the compost heap of Time. Frankly, He begins to stink. Others turn away in disgust. I smile.
He is dead & rotting. I am not dead. Nor rotting. Though my clothes are torn & my face scratched. The good & virtuous avert their eyes when I approach growling. I pull faces & bark. They think I am mad. I bark all the louder.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment