And you don’t know what year it is.
When you’ve lost the sounds of civilization you can hear the voice of God.
And I was welcomed.
It’s cold and damp but it’s a home of my own making. If I choose peace, then peace becomes me.
And the wars of others are left to others.
They tell me my jobs are many: to labor, to war, to support the sinners as they whore. But my job is one: to fix myself.
As is everyone’s.
My refuge is only temporary. The sin of the many outweighs the good of the few. But the rules of nature cannot be questioned. Soon, no refuge will be left on this planet.
I don’t know what that means.
The world is out of control. My life is out of control. All I want to do is stay in this little patch of woods forever. All of the universe is here. And its love speaks to me.
Asking me where I’ve been.
Do I not have dreams of love? Do I not trust my Maker? Do you not wish to belong once more?
But I am angry.
The raging beast sits alone in the forest. He’s tired of his diet of shame and venom. He finds peace only in a place where he cannot live.
For the beast is trapped.
He destroys the stairway to heaven and burns the bridges of the world. What is left?
A life on the run.