my soul cries out to god. yet am i not he? how is this possible? how is it i can feel such human pain---and pain on the spiritual/emotive level, when i know in my heart i am united to god, united with no barriers?
i don't understand or, rather, don't want to. i want to be a child again. ignorant of the world, ignorant of myself. happy and trusting in the world and my parents. suddenly, being a grown-up seems terrifying, dread, hideous, a horrible lie within lies wrapped in rotting, moldy parchment covered in facecake.
what is this life but a seeking to re-enter the womb? and yet, i feel that i have re-entered the womb of god----and yet, how can pain reach me here? o god, why must i become like unto thee---full of power and grace, yet capable of supreme pain and supreme angst? o god, this life is as slab upon my back. i walk on unbending stone and upon my back, yet stone, and ahead, only a crypt. and, if successful, i'll be able to carry the stone to my crypt and fall into it, complete.
why??? why??? why must we live beyond age four? why must we become beings of passions and lusts and drives and beauty and power? and yet there is no solace in death either. for do we not die and die and die and die--not only in sleep, but the agony throes of our daily grinding?
o god. i cry out to you. be just! be merciful! release me. i thirst. pierce me and let my blood and water flow forth and in the name of god put me in the crypt. perhaps after hell there shall be a respite.
i cannot face my own life. i cannot face it. i find solace only in prayer and in making this perishing flesh beautiful. my one consolation. and little enough. o god. i die one thousand times a day. there is no relief. why do you not save me o god? why do i dangle? let me touch the hem of your robe!
i cling to your legs! i spend all i have left and buy nard and break it over your head! i dry your feet with my hair. kissing your feet is my food and drink. embrace me now or let me die.
cruel lover!
