i was looking at an old and tattered black and white photo of my grandfather a man i never knew and wondered about
his existence like a horizon of dissolution his soul enshrined in my own and like him and all creatures ultimately i remain defenseless against realities magnitude
while my father loved me as a child he grew unkind over the years and we where set bitterly against one another other his tyranny and my disobedience
as i gathered strategies craft by machinery of thought and festering gall he, the bully got bullied back by me and old age as we in tandem set fire to his sadistic golden age of disillusionment
and here we are now the living and the dead still locked in a grudge a recurring spirit of revenge in a valley of tears before i myself join the ephemeral legions in a pile of stones and ashed corpses
are we not a procession of long struggles and short pleasures a history of terrors and creatureness stooges bound by the wheel creation crucified by desire and the apathy of obliterations aftermath an archeology of death ruin upon ruins
has God sinned against man or bestowed his grace mystified perfect and beautiful beyond measure yet to be discovered in an alternate reality?