"We try harder."

They were saying our thoughts are part of God, the fringe of the body, and the mainstream agreed so far that God knew all the thoughts of meager old man.

They were saying our thoughts were light, and had been said by Christ himself not to hide the light.

They were saying we were and are birds, grass and flowers, and so much we see not so much of that in the interim, but its there, lingering, like a rush of blood at a certain smell, or so forth, something of the old natural.

Of the natural, I was one time fortunate enough, a cheap analog watch had kerflopped on my wrist while I worked, and I, looking up at the sun, and guessing on how much of the work was done at that time, was able to set the watch within ten minutes of the real Eastern Standard Time(New York, Sao Paulo).

Meanwhile, my more financially successful betters have people calling them and telling them what to say.

Of filth, there is some on my socks, and much less filth collected in my mind, not a venture capitalist unction towards donating 100 million while at the same time firing 10,000 employees.

We bestride the filth, the dust from whence we came, we expel breath, we feel the air, and we have something of humanity that some are more or less restrained and deprived of, a kind of naturalist extended orgasm that is life and the experience divine, that they don't get all of in the bigger buildings.

"We try harder."

Life breathed into us, that singular original forebear, is something of God, the consciousness comes into motion like a great clockwork mechanism, cajugging and whirring and buzzing along, and the continued in and out renews and continues the process of simultaneously with-holding and expelling the presence of God in our person.