The Precarious Bridge

Ordinary Men are driven to believe in imaginary gods; also to believe in the power of words.

They even refer to their religious books as the “Word of God.”  But just between us, I ask you: to which circuit are such words addressed?

There is a precarious bridge over which all must pass.  It represents a delicate balance between wanting a something to worship from afar, and the hunger to reach out and take it by the hand.

One late night on the island of Shedapore, I entered a reknowned den of iniquity, and in a dark corner, surrounded by drink, drugs, and several comely nymphs, discovered a well known holy man.  I joined him for a bit, partaking, in part, of the available treats, and later commented that such activities certainly couldn't be condoned, nor tolerated with the public at large, and he smiled, “Oh, you're a priest too.”

The fears you have now are nothing but fear of the expected. They often appear to be fears of the unknown, such as in attempting new actions and apparently dreading unpredictable consequences.  But this is in error, for the results will be the expected.  There is a joyful fear far beyond the dull limits of this shaky universe...a place where fear laughs at its own shadow.

That which can't be digested should not be eaten, and that which can't be eaten should not be handled.  And that which shouldn't be handled should not be thought of, and no one, no one, I say, can digest the unthinkable.  So there!

If your forefathers were correct, and Man is paying off some debt to the gods, have you ever wondered about these unholy interest rates?

J.