I can't write right now. There is so much that is coming and going and evolving and devolving in my mind and spirit, nothing stays cohesive; nothing stays static long enough to even make it through a single post. Let me just say God is good. Today he reminded me that in my worst of times, he was there for me in so many ways, through his people and through his provision. I feel stupid and selfish that I have turned my mourning for Christina into some shrine of arrogance and ignorance against my Father.

   I did write the other day, of which I will offer a little excerpt, because I think it is pertinent here.

"It would be wise if I had not moved. I was always one for action.

“I finesse with a hammer,

And tune with a scream.

No, it is not done right,

But it is done.”

This is how I have lived, a marionette of thunder and lead,

Controlled by the whims of the wind and spirits.

Where I stumbled and leaned, there was destruction and abandon. And the Angel of the morning smiled. He smiled. I made his work easy. With a heaviness and the breath of the grave I walked through the door of life and fell about the place.

“Be still; and know that I am the Lord”

Count your breaths, Son. Everyone a blessing. Your knowledge is spent on the empty numbness of wine, and your wisdom diluted in the anarchy of your spirit. Be still, and learn again. Learn why there is God in a green leaf, and why the smile of a child is more precious than gold. Be still. Lest Satan realize his quarry, and hit his mark...

The Lord left me for a bit, and I was not still. I set to my own devices. I took into all the infinite variations of all of time, and space and man and God and all things unknowable and drew my conclusions. I concluded that all there was is madness and malice and I proceeded forth accordingly. I set a feast before me of retch, then engorged mysel