CONFESSION ZERO

Met a couple of fellow travelers, Richard (John) and Ania, a couple, "homeless" at the moment. Richard and I spoke for about an hour and a half in the public parking lot on A street next to the trail in Bentonville. He was a gentle soul, a man experiencing some health problems, cataracts (nearing blindness) and various internal issues. Richard had difficulty seeing so we sat near enough to one another as to make it most comfortable. We spoke of homelessness, the church, the Cherokee, we both are descendents, though he was nearer to the tribe by direct descendancy than I, and we talked of society, belief, God, Creation, nature, the (H)eartH, the Heart(H), governance, suffering and its possible meaning. We were doing what we thinking beasts are meant to do, dance with one another's spirit and converse lovingly and thoughtfully about our human purpose. I enjoyed our conversation immensely. (Ania was most kind as well, but she was catching up on her much needed sleep...

Imagine this... A man was born… died… and then was reborn without the knowledge of who he was before. This man could not be told, he had to find himself on his own. He searched outside of the self for years, didn't find himself, found instead that he wouldn't know, couldn't earn the right to do so. He then went on a journey only to find himself alone searching blindly with new eyes given him by the one he didn't know, the one he couldn't have known, never knew, blind to the truth of who he was. He wept, he pled with Creation to let him go. The answer was, No. What a cruel test of the will, what a sad testament to fate. Too soon he stumbled, too soon, too damned late. Time’s up! March on now! Move along, you don’t belong! See him tumble, stumble headlong, see him move along and warble such a tragic love song. What a cruel joke, what a spiteful worship, what a misguided missile shot from empty sockets, the ramshackle spirit using him...