Empty Parking Lot of the Soul, a Spiritual Desolation that compares only to the most strange.

I found myself in a moment of spiritual clarity in a moment of intense spiritual fog, spiritual night, the dark night of the soul; late night on the porch.  I remembered labeling myself, "the destroyer" in past years, faithless lost years.

Jangle, jangle.

Toilet handle.

Flushing those

down.

I remembered that, and I tried to make amends with my maker on that, I repented of my own past, a condition with which so many are encumbered.  And I was thinking, the recompense, is that so many too, time beats our asses, in the long run, and as is said, the Lord is above time, immune to time, which is part of the "mystery" what King David and others called the "glory".

It became, laid-open for me, the errors, the minutia, the complaints of others, how they had wasted their time, and to me, how I had wasted my time, and in a mix of fury and confusion, a frustrated child flailing, how I had so often pissed away so much good without thought.  Flushed it away without thought, that which was imbued through some kind of galactic balance.

But I relent.

I repent.

I take a rest.

I get my buttocks back up for another round.

Not dead, I continue.