You are a cool cemetery.
You have the sinner’s grave
You have the saint’s earth
You have all the beds
narrow as a knife;
as if a rally of tombstones to defend death.
But you can’t really postpone
the inauguration of my burial,
From the poem – Few Words to Cemetery
You’re innocent until proven guilty,
We came all this way to explore the moon, and the most important thing is that we discovered the earth.
Find your place on the planet. Dig in, and take responsibility from there.
They told me that nothing was a sin, just a poor life choice. Poor impulse control. That nothing is evil. Any concept of right versus wrong, according to them, is merely a cultural construct relative to one specific time and place. They said that if anything should force us to modify our personal behavior it should be our allegiance to a social contract, not some vague, externally imposed threat of flaming punishment.
The Apollo pictures of the whole Earth conveyed to multitudes something well known to astronomers: On the scale of the worlds – to say nothing of stars or galaxies – humans are inconsequential, a thin film of life on an obscure and solitary lump of rock and metal
Churches were never meant to be mental hospitals. They were supposed to be military outposts under orders to storm the gates of hell. Every believer is on active duty and called to serve a higher purpose with the rank of their blessings and talents.
Do what you want to do in life and you will see what life will do to you on earth. What you always do, pays what it always pays!
The earth is crying for people who make sound judgement and informed decisions.
Dance,’ they told me, and I stood still,
and while I stood quiet in line at the gate of the Kingdom, I danced.
‘Pray,’ they said, and I laughed,
covering myself in the earth’s brightnesses,
and then stole off gray into the midst of a revel,
and prayed like an orphan.