Forelorn
So what is this judgement that you seek to pass?
Invisible world, unheard of, unseen. Only spoken and written--legacy of a man.
Thirteen years ripped out. Thirteen. Twelve of them were yours, one turned on you.
So they speak of you like a legend, and they treat you like you're right there next to them.
No one has sympathy for the man down under--even though he draws the closest fascimile to one of us:
Hated, despised, mistrusted, always the malefactor. That's how we treat strangers--stranger danger.
No experience can be trusted but the stale ones in our cabinet. We cannot cede the need to convert.
Ours is the only way. Demons of false religion stand at bay.
Incorruptible, yet, we are corrupted throughout with subjectivity--this is our story, the human story.
We are the essence of man--seeking to be of another world, yet we are bound tight to the earth.
Even as we seek refrain from filth--life is filth. Sterility exists only in decay, in abdication.
Dissolution of the animal way is what we seek. But is the grass really greener?
Oh Christ, you never wrote back to me.