6:30 Mindful of Time and Late

     6:30 mindful of time and late – as if we were the last, lost souls beneath the throne of glory – in a small diner where a woman was killed. Call it a misunderstanding over a cup of coffee. Was it murder? Assault? An accident? The question is still lingering.

    Why, just yesterday they were driving combat vehicles through these streets to crush “the threat of civilization,” they said. A global war of destiny sparked and fueled by their own unstable emotional impulses, led by the noise and blinded by the sun, the sun, the blinding sun. There were fascist actions in Oklahoma City. Fascist actions in Des Moines. All the fanatical, fundamentalist righteousness of people devoid of empathy. We fall apart and burn in a hell of our own making.

    Please. I can’t stand to be alone. And I can’t stand alone. We are in this together. My agnostic friend is desperate enough to talk to God, if you would believe it. I do. I’ve been there myself. I’ve not always believed, so I understand. And I tell him so, but he doesn’t believe me.

    This malnutrition. Apathy. Atrophy. Beaten and sore abused. Burned with cigarettes. Like a battered car. Broken down and crippled under the archway in a puddle of urine. Now which is worse – you tell me – if the urine is mine? Or if the urine belongs to someone else?

    This is the fifth chapter. Apologies. This is the fifth mystery – divided – where the music (and the world?) ends abruptly. But how did it begin, you ask. How did it begin? It began with the Why. Not how are you? But Why are you? It began with the word and the word was Why​?