If There Is A True

No Book Or Poem Is Ever Finished, Merely Abandoned.

In Twentieth-century Old Earth, A Fast Food Chain Took Dead Cow Meat, Fried It In Grease, Added Carcinogens, Wrapped It In Petroleum-based Foam, And Sold Nine Hundred Billion Units. Human Beings. Go Figure.

I Now Understand The Need For Faith - Pure, Blind, Fly-in-the-face-of-reason Faith - As A Small Life Preserver In The Wild And Endless Sea Of A Universe Ruled By Unfeeling Laws And Totally Indifferent To The Small, Reasoning Beings That Inhabit It.

Merely To Live Without A Pain Is Little Gladness, Little Gain, Ah, Welcome Joy Tho' Mixt With Grief-- The Thorn-set Flower That Crowns The Leaf.

The Future Is Like Smoke From A Burning Forest, Waiting For The Wind Of Specific Events And Personal Courage To Blow The Sparks And Embers Of Reality This Way Or That.