I could use it, one more hour of sleep, one more hour with a loved one, one more hour just to be… but as servant to your insatiable siren call, I am compelled to write because on every word I fear you feed. At all cost, I must satiate the endless desire of my hedonistic muse, to hear her one more laugh, one more gasp, one more sigh, because without me I believe she would … die. As I know, without her, would I.
God exists, if only as an abstract concept in our heads. Known by aliases such as the universe, the creator, or the one. He, she, or it dwells in the sky, all around us, without and within us, in our hearts and in our minds. Those of us, knowing or disbelieving, the agnostics, the atheists, the scientists, the religious and the spiritual, thinking good, bad or not at all, are not free of the presence of the everlasting and the forever continuum of bliss and tragedy, the mundane and the dramatic, and the realist and the romantic. So find our way we must, on our own and all together, through prayer and meditation, as well as immersive communion or solitary deep contemplation, for there is no escape from our collective and personal existential pain. You can either make your peace, or risk losing the one thing that makes this crazy ride sane.