We are all veterans of some sort. Wounded from little wars with no heroes welcome and scars disguised as character flaws. Let the dead bury their own. Grab a seat, O weary soldiers. Let us entertain you with a fairy…
Take a break from wailing at your own personal wailing wall made up of unfulfilled dreams, cold-hearted gods, and broken relationships. Pull the tab on a Schlitz and sit down for some yucking it up, and little Holy Spirit! We’ll…
Beneath the calm, within the light,
A hid unruly appetite
Of swifter life, a surer hope,
Strains every sense to larger scope,
Impatient to anticipate
The halting steps of aged Fate.
Now listen to Ringside.
Put down all the other documents you take for granted, light a cuban, drip some water on your sugar sitting in spoon over your Pernod’s, and consider the possibility that God’s thoughts are recorded down on papyrus.