MAN stands center-stage, shaking. An empty bed lays behind him. He is alone.
Should these tremors never cease. Should these bedsheets creep, silent-bound for my ankles to pull me into the grave, then indeed I shall be no more. Yet, for all days from my very birth until now, I was at once. And though this blood may creep-criminal in my brain, its tentacles cannot grasp the reaches of history. For, it is gone, and I am in it.
(he pauses, continuing to shake)
Terminal! Yes, quite terminal this conflagration of that organ, that slow burning fire whose fuel is that which I know of what I have become.
(he yells, upward)
Burn then! I am indelible!
I have lived! Let flesh and spirit be expelled into their eternal frontiers, but the lore of their existence, let not pass. Let not pass. I am but a man, as always I have been, and when I am not, then shall I only be known. Then shall I only be remembered. Such is enough.
(he straightens himself as best he can, shaking, he speaks)
So come! Come, haunting scythe. Come, dark and black. For, though this flesh yields, I shall not.
The terrifying thing is that the Christian’s view of the Church is not unlike the general population’s view of the democratic State. The patrons of both institutions are unanimously dissatisfied with each, and this dissatisfaction often becomes the marking characteristic of their membership, identification, and participation in those entities. No citizen is wholly convinced by the American State. This lack of complete submission, in whatever amount, is a vital characteristic of the republic. The paradox of a democratic body is that those in submission to it must simultaneously be opposed to it in some form. It is my fear that we have adopted such a mindset with the Body of Christ. This attitude certainly has not been the sole cause of its fragmentation, though I would suggest it contributes to such splitting with undeniable weight. The individual has been left to assume that his beliefs, and perhaps his entire system of religion, is not completely in-tune with the greater movement of the Church or even whomever may be sitting next to him in the pew on any given occasion. The like-minded, singularly accorded nature of the Church is far too easily dismissed on the grounds of individuality. The unity found in the accepted identity and nature of Christ has largely been forgotten. No longer do we say “this is the Truth of Christ as revealed by the Holy Spirit to the Church,” but I would suggest we have begun to say “this is the Truth as I see it” as though we have some obligation to contribute to the Truth out of our own musings. In the context of democracy, the critiques of the citizen are essential to the nature and progression of the State. Perhaps this is not so with the Church, as it inherently submits itself to a King rather than a representative. Indeed, the Church will never reach the complete state of perfection as the Body of Christ in this realm. I certainly believe that the preservation of the integrity of the Church is a matter which every Christian must have some concern over. However when the pursuit of this integrity leads to partiality rather than unity, the Church suffers a terrible blow.
I think I’m like 133, but I’m told I’m 21. October 17th, 1990 this mess all started.
So with fingers over pursed lips,
wanting desperately to be kissed,
quiet the world
quiet the world.
Until that fog morning
when we shall wake up in the ecstasy of silence,
utterly alone in the sun,
laid upon a foreign shore,
The dream I just had to the fullest extent of my memory.
“I was on a golf course and I picked up the wrong bag of clubs and I knew it was the wrong set because the shafts were pink so I walked back to the group behind me and yelled to their leader and he got mad at me for not being able to hear his reply and for walking so close to the sand bunker so I yelled at him and said, ‘I work at a fucking golf course you idiot,’ but I shouldn’t have said that because I don’t work at a golf course and all my grandparents were there even the dead one and he was driving my grandmother around in the cart because they’re too old to walk the whole course but I was getting really angry with the group behind us who was apparently recording something because they had a TV camera and a boom mic with them so I walked through them and started shooting them and they fell down and died one by one but it was all pretend because I didn’t have a gun but I had my fingers and I didn’t shoot the people who were in love but I met them behind the green when it began to pour and said, ‘You’re alright,’ with my hand on the shoulder of the one guy’s black rain-coat and all this happened after I hit a bad shot with my 8-iron from under a tree and then I hit another shot with my 8-iron but I swung it like a putter and the ball went really wide of the hole and my mother made some sad remark but then the ball circled all the way around the hole and went in and I said, ‘What was that?’ and suddenly I was awake.”