3.23.10

Could we not all come together in some sacred grove and sing and pray and talk together? Heads on shoulders and sighs and joys. Why stopped is discourse. Why frozen our loves? Why crippled our kisses? The world hangs by a thread--but perhaps your next embrace will save us all.

3.23.10

i shall go, then, back to the counting house. but i swear an oath enjoy it not. for if i allow myself to enjoy this labor that takes me away from you and from my prayer shawl, i shall hate myself as i do now. but if i do it as i would as if a slave, then i can accept it, do it as a servant should. a servant does not serve out of pride of service. a servant serves by merest demand and necessity. the master is all, and the server must adopt an air of resignation, of passivity, of blankness, upon which the master sees his own stamp and not the servant beneath.

and that it what i shall be. i shall be a stamp, faceless, unloved. but i will still have the respite that god grants to all creatures, blessed sleep. and in my blessed sleep, i shall dream and live with the almighty. blessed be the name of the lord. for this is the promise of heaven; no future reward, but the reward within, the reward that gives hope and strength to plow with the whip-master but feet away. as i cannot love the world, please allow me to submit or god. for i fear penury, and cannot bring my children to beg, or to make myself a burden upon my poor parents. and perhaps, perhaps, i shall become a slave-king. with scented robes and oiled hair. but one that lays flat before the sultan in abject fear nonetheless.

3.23.10

we are seedcakes, then, but of only one seed. if we wish to feed more, then we must be reground, reformed into dough, and added to---more DIVINE must be added, stirred in, 1/2 cup at a time. and once the batter has been added to 1,000,000 times god to one part 'me', then, we will be ready to be baked in his sacred kiln. and brown we shall be removed, flat, enormous, sweet--enough to feed 10,000 times 10,000.