Did you ever light a paper in a dark room? The fire burns and then starts going out as the paper is fully burnt – the room getting darker. Well, that is the symbolic flame of your life watching it dies out. We don’t usually get ‘do overs’ in life, but we can try and grasp onto something joyful and bask in it for awhile. Life comes with many downs, but trust me, many many more ups!

Don’t waste a single minute (that’s the main purpose).

This, according to the fellows who saw me as fit for a Service career, put me ahead of the curve, to understand this truth at an age when most guys are starting only to suspect the basics of adulthood–that life owes you nothing; that suffering takes many forms; that no one will ever care for you as your mother did; that the human heart is a chump.

The love between a man and a woman acts like a mousetrap to lure a man towards a woman enticing him like a pure cheese, but is secretly tied with a strap.

Transcendence is before you should you choose to take a swim.

Into your deep blue you dive and all that is within.

Referred to as my subconscious so you may understand me clear.

But there’s nothing very simple about the message I’m sending here.

The colour of your blood, the liquid through your veins,

is really just a pathway to the place that feels your pains.

The heart is an ocean but within it there’s a sun, submerged beneath the ocean, and all that is but one.

I been silent so long now it’s gonna roar out of me like floodwaters and you think the guy telling this is ranting and raving my God; you think this is too horrible to have really happened, this is too awful to be the truth! But, please. It’s still hard for me to have a clear mind thinking on it. But it’s the truth even if it didn’t happen.

The four points of the compass be logic, knowledge, wisdom and the unknown. Some do bow in that final direction. Others advance upon it. To bow before the one is to lose sight of the three. I may submit to the unknown, but never to the unknowable. The man who bows in that final direction is either a saint or a fool. I have no use for either.

But I cannot accept a vision of You as an engineer who spends His days maintaining the machine of morality. I cannot take the idea of You as an optimizer, introducing evil into human affairs in an attempt to create the best of all possible worlds. I cannot bear this cold mathematician’s God who sees all the universe as nothing more than an elaborate problem to be solved. Such a world is a world with no meaning, one in which one history is no more or less preferable to any other.

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