Darkness is a funny thing. It hides in the light, just a blink behind. We can feel the grim outline of death beneath our papery skin, yet our bodies fight valiantly back, apparently ignorant to their encroaching peril.
Cruel impulses haunt our fleshy taxis to their graves. They suggest we must be an incarnation that will matter, a version that will save. Nothing changes though. Those without prospects manifest against such injustice only to squander it from the greener grass.
As God climaxes from behind, He kicks your legs from under you and slothilly steps over your sobbing corpse and shambles away to treat yet another journeyman.
Trace the cavities in your head and know they will one day be uncluttered and cold. Eyeballs will loll into mush and tongues will wither and dry between oft-flossed teeth. Your rib cage will no longer be hampered by muscle and fat, its long-preserved seal broken by the elements of time and futile concern. Your heart will finally drift free and pucker in the vacuum of love and joy.
All that remains on your candid scaffold is God's gritty seed - a warning to sweet-smelling babes, ever too young to notice the lie of life.
Just kidding!
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